


You're Still You

by Arnel



Series: Gifts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnel/pseuds/Arnel
Summary: It's Harry's sixth year and Ginny Weasley has been "Harry-Watching" from afar. She doesn't like what she sees and decides to do something about it. Will her actions result in failure or will she and Harry become closer?





	1. Seeking Harry

An early October wind rattled the common room windows and Ginny Weasley pulled her robes about her shoulders more securely. It never ceased to amaze her that it was this time of year that she felt coldest in the castle. She supposed that she was still fighting the realization that summer was gone and winter would soon be upon the school. Not that she really minded; this was ideal Quidditch weather and with Ron in his second year as Keeper and the reinstatement of Harry as Seeker this season, Gryffindor had a better chance of winning the Quidditch Cup than last year. She had been rather pleased earlier that day when she had watched the team's final practice. Then, as now, she had just wished it was warmer.

Looking up, she gazed around the familiar room for the one she'd been waiting for since the end of dinner. He was nowhere in sight and she had not seen him come through the portrait hole or enter the boy's staircase. Something about the way Harry had been acting after practice made her just a little concerned about him. She couldn't put her finger on it; she just knew something wasn't right with him. To tell the truth, nothing had seemed right since the end of the Third Task sixteen months ago. And even if she didn't know all the details, after participating in last year's fight at the Ministry of Magic, something about Harry's demeanor then and now haunted her.

Glancing back at her Charms homework, Ginny realized that what she wanted most was to find Harry and assure herself that he wasn't alone. She knew that Ron and Hermione had made a pledge to always be within hollering distance if Harry needed them. She also knew that they had not included her in their pact. Silently, she fumed about being the baby of the Weasley family and the need her brothers and their friends felt to shield her from 'evil.' Well, if that's the way they feel, I'll just take it upon myself to add my presence to Harry's circle of guardians, she thought. I'm not as fragile as they think I am. He needs me just as much as they think he needs them.

With that, she gathered up her books and stuffed them into her bag. It took only a moment to dash upstairs, deposit the bag next to her bed and grab her cloak from her trunk. Thus unencumbered, she made her way back down the stairs, through the common room and out the portrait hole.

Once in the corridor she paused to consider her options. Where to begin looking? That was the question. Where would Harry find a private place where he didn't feel he had to hide his true feelings or put on a brave face? She searched her mental map of the castle and came up with nothing. Then it hit her. Ron had said once that when Harry needed to forget he flew. She was sure of it; Harry had not left the Quidditch pitch that afternoon. Come to think of it, Ginny didn't think he'd been at dinner.

Making up her mind, she dashed down several staircases and found herself at a side door to the castle. It would be only a few hundred yards to the field house, but she paused anyway to cast a quick warming charm on her cloak because of the wind. Once at the field house she went straight to the broom shed and took off on her old Comet 260, a hand-me-down passed to her from all of her brothers. There was just enough light left to fly safely for about twenty minutes. She would know if her hunch had paid off by the time she needed to land.

She flew over the stadium scanning the tiers of bleachers. No Harry. She then searched each viewing tower looking for his familiar face. Still, no Harry and no sign of either Ron or Hermione. Then, as she looked toward the last fading rays of the sunset, she spotted his Firebolt bobbing on the wind just above one of the goal hoops. Harry's back was to her, his head bowed and shoulders hunched, not seeming to mind the buffeting. It was not a happy sight and her heart went out to him. All Ginny wanted to do was take him in her arms and smooth away his cares. She flew to the closest tower and found a seat where she was slightly sheltered from the wind but still had an unobstructed view of Harry.

The sky gradually faded into blackness; Ginny didn't know how long she sat there gazing around the pitch. For her, it was a peaceful experience listening to the wind and watching Harry. She hoped she was sending some of the peace she felt to him for she wanted him to know she was there if he needed her. As it was, he continued to hover until it was completely dark and Ginny knew they needed to get back to Gryffindor Tower before it was noticed they were missing. She sighed, mounted her broom and flew back to the shed hoping Harry would follow her soon. 

So it was that Ginny spent the next two weeks watching over Harry every evening. She had no idea whether her presence was even noticed. He gave no indication that he knew she flew to the same tower after dinner and spent at least a half hour near him: he was either oblivious to anything but his own inner turmoil or chose to ignore Ginny's presence in the stadium. Either way, Ginny didn't care. She was dedicated to being available to Harry if he wanted someone to help him; she thought she understood a little of what he was going through more than any of his other friends. 

Besides, the peace and quiet of the stadium helped Ginny, too; she was taking time to calm herself after a hectic day, something she could not do in the crazy atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room. Her study time was even benefiting from calmly organizing her priorities. And she no longer dragged herself up to bed dreading falling asleep just to wake up to tangled covers from the disturbing nightmares that sometimes still haunted her nearly four years after her rescue from the Chamber of Secrets.

It was at the beginning of the third week that Hermione approached her after dinner as she made her way upstairs to get her cloak.

"Ginny, wait," Hermione called.

Ginny turned around. "What's up?" she inquired as Hermione fell into step beside her.

"Great news. I've just had an owl from your mother."

"My mother?"

"That's right. I owled her sometime last week," Hermione began. "My parents want me to come home next weekend for a family party and they said I could invite a friend. Naturally, I thought of you."

"Why didn’t you ask me first?” 

"Ginny, don't get mad at me, but I knew you'd refuse to come."

"Why? It sounds like fun."

"Well, the party is going to be a rather fancy Muggle affair and I know you're self-conscious about your wardrobe. And I also know you don't like to miss lessons either. So I owled your parents and your mother wrote back to say that they were delighted with the idea and included a note of permission for you to miss school next Friday and the following Monday. They will even be making arrangements with George to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron next Thursday evening."

Ginny was thunderstruck. "George? How come?"

"Well, we need to go to Gringotts to exchange gold for Muggle money. I have nothing to wear to the party and I want to take you to my favorite Muggle dress shops on Friday. Make it a girl's day out sort of. George is going to be there to be sure the goblins give us a fair exchange rate."

"Good old George. It sounds like you have everything planned. And you're right, I would have refused just as you said. You know me too well, Hermione. I'm glad you asked Mum and Dad first, though I shudder to think of what a raid on the family vault will do their savings. There never seems to be enough to warrant an extravagant day like the one you've got planned in Muggle London," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'd love to go to the party."

A smile lit up Hermione's face as she embraced her friend. "We're going to have such a splendid time," she said. "Let's go send an owl to Mum and Dad telling them that everything's arranged and to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron next Thursday. Oh, I can't wait to go shopping with you. It'll be such fun!"

With that, the girls headed for the owlery cheerfully discussing their plans. All thoughts of Harry slipped Ginny's mind as she contemplated her good fortune.

*****

The week passed quickly and before she knew it, it was Wednesday evening and Ginny sat on her bed making a list of things to throw into a small bag to take to Hermione's. Suddenly, she looked at her watch and gasped. How could she have forgotten? She quickly folded the parchment, capped her ink bottle and put them and her quill in her cloak pocket; she could finish at the stadium, she decided. Seconds later she was crossing the common room toward the portrait hole when she felt someone watching her. She turned and waved to Hermione as she exited.

Ginny paused to look up at the goal hoops before mounting her broom. Harry was in his usual spot bobbing in the breeze facing the sunset. There wasn't much light left, so Ginny flew quickly to her own usual perch and pulled out her list. It was done in no time and she used the remaining time to silently apologize to Harry for being too busy the last few days to not keep him company. I'm going to Hermione's for the weekend and wanted to get my assignments completed before I left, she thought. If you need me Tuesday evening after practice, I'll be here. The light faded completely and Ginny mounted her broom and took off for the shed.

*******

George met Ginny and Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron punctually at five o'clock the next afternoon. He was excited to see Ginny, engulfing her in a big brotherly hug as she exited the fireplace, and escorted the girls to Gringotts Wizarding Bank and back again in time to meet Mr. and Mrs. Granger for dinner. Ginny was glad it was George who had met her because she knew she'd never have been able to stop her father from pestering Mr. Granger about all his fascinating 'eklectic' gadgets and his mode of transport.

"We're so glad your parents gave Ginny permission to join Hermione this weekend," Mrs. Granger told him as the girls loaded their bags into the boot.

"It's an opportunity we wouldn't want her to miss," George said with a smile.

He gave Ginny a quick hug saying softly to her, "Have fun and take notes on everything Muggle for Dad. I'm sure he'll bombard you with questions next time you're home."

Ginny giggled and waved as the car sped away.

The Grangers lived in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of London. Their home was an elegant Tudor style set back from the street behind a shoulder-height hedge. To Ginny, the twelve-room house looked like a mansion compared with The Burrow's rambling hodge-podge of tottering rooms. 

Hermione led the way upstairs to her bedroom and casually flipped on the overhead light. Ginny stood in the doorway of the large room marveling at how quickly her friend switched between worlds. She watched as Hermione headed straight to what looked like a glass-front cupboard filled with black boxes and pushed a few buttons. Suddenly, the room was filled with orchestral music and a rich male voice singing a beautiful song.

"As much as I love Hogwarts, I can't help missing my sound system," Hermione said flopping onto her large bed. "I tried bringing my personal CD player first year, but the thing didn't work with all the magic in the castle. It took me a while to get used to studying without something to listen to."

Ginny put her things in a pile on the floor and joined Hermione on the bed. "My Dad would kill to examine all those boxes you've got plugged into the wall. But enough about him. Your room is simply elegant!" It was done up in pastel blue, purple and green with matching upholstery and curtains. A thick blue carpet covered the floor while the walls shimmered a soothing green hue.

"Thanks, Mum and I redecorated it last summer. Unfortunately, we won't be spending much time here this weekend," Hermione said. "Tomorrow we're going to have to shop for two outfits. Mom told me downstairs that we have to go to a Christening on Sunday afternoon as well as Saturday's party. I know your birthday is coming up soon and my gift to you is your outfit for Sunday. Don't look at me like that; we're going to have such fun tomorrow shopping and I don't want to feel guilty because I want to be nice to you!"

"I don't know what to say except, thanks," Ginny said hugging her friend. "May I see the rest of the house?"

The girls made a quick tour, then got ready for bed. Mrs. Granger stuck her head in the door to wish them a good night, then left her daughter and Ginny to gab the night away. 

The next day was a whirlwind of shopping. Hermione and her mother took Ginny straight to their favorite boutique on Oxford Street and within an hour, both girls had suitable dresses for Saturday's party and Ginny had picked out an olive green business suit for Sunday's Christening. After saying good-bye to Mrs. Granger, the girls went off to explore Hermione's other favorite shops for accessories and Christmas gifts. They visited a jewelry store, a shoe shop, a Muggle bookstore, several gift and casual clothing establishments, and a large department store (so that Ginny could see what one looked like). Ginny found that she had enough Muggle money for some very nice presents for all of her family as well as Hermione, Harry and even a small gift for her potions partner, Colin Creevy, who was constantly supplying her with copies of his pictures. The girls met Mrs. Granger at the end of the day loaded down with bags of every size and shape, happy and tired from all their walking.

Later that evening Ginny sat on the floor of Hermione's bedroom surrounded by her purchases. Hermione had taken over the bed and was hanging up the new clothes she'd bought. They had been discussing boys and teachers and school for quite a while when Ginny changed the subject.

"I need to ask you something," she said turning serious. "It concerns Harry."

Hermione looked up curiously. "What about him?"

"Has he seemed overly tired to you lately?"

The older girl thought for a moment. "Yes. You noticed it, too? He must not be sleeping well again. Ron would know. Why do you ask?"

"I know it's none of my business, but I'm a little concerned about him," Ginny said. "He just doesn't seem to be himself this year, that's all." She deliberately kept her voice casual. Ginny realized her feelings for Harry ran much deeper now and she needed to make sure she sounded only like a concerned friend instead of a silly little girl. It wouldn't do to have Hermione think her crush from first year was back in full force. 

"You have a point," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It's as though he lost all interest in living after Sirius died last Spring..." She paused as if remembering, then said, "I was trying to interest your brother and Harry in studying for our Potions quiz a couple of nights ago and Harry just seemed to be miles away. He's usually quicker than Ron with the answers, but that night he didn't get one question right. I wondered if something was bothering him and put it up to too much History of Magic homework."

Ginny nodded knowingly. She had one last observation. "I've only noticed Harry coming down to the Great Hall for breakfast and maybe lunch. Does he ever join you and Ron for dinner? I haven't seen him lately."

"No, not in the past three or four weeks. He begs off because of Quidditch practice. But that doesn't make sense. Ron always is the first of the team to find the dinner table after practice, so I usually know when practice ends," Hermione mused with a slight smile. "He's even faster than Fred and George were at filling and emptying his plate." At this, Ginny giggled softly knowing Hermione was right. They'd both seen how the ravenous Ron could tuck into a plate of food and make several helpings disappear in the time it took the rest of them to consume just one.

Hermione paused, thinking. "Ginny, you may be right about Harry not eating. Your mum charged me with seeing that both he and Ron ate regularly. It's not hard to do with your brother around. But Harry, now he's a challenge. I'll have to be more observant. I'll let you know."

"Thanks. If you want me to help you remind Harry to come to meals let me know. I'd like to help,” Ginny volunteered. "I sometimes see him just before dinner and could encourage him to join you."

Hermione nodded. "Good idea, Ginny. Maybe between the two of us we can get Harry down to the Great Hall for the evening meal more often." 

Ginny nodded and changed the subject again. "Which necklace do you like better with this dress for tomorrow? I can't make up my mind." She held two crystal necklaces against the material of the floral print linen dress in cream, yellow and orange she'd purchased for the party.

"The green one. It makes me think of Harry," Hermione said with a sly smile. "You'll knock the socks off some of my uncles tomorrow."

**********

The party turned out to be a fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration for Hermione's great aunt and uncle. Ginny was fascinated to discover that Muggles celebrated in much the same way as the Wizarding population did with a large gathering of family and friends in a large hall. There were tables piled high with food, lots of gifts, and stories galore about the celebrated couple. Ginny and Hermione both became rather teary as the elderly couple renewed their wedding vows; there was something beautiful and romantic about pledging once again to stand side by side until death did them part. I hope I'll be doing this with my husband someday, Ginny thought and knew Hermione was probably thinking the same thing.

"What are you smiling about?" Hermione inquired after the ceremony.

"Oh, I was just thinking that fifty-odd years from now my brother and a certain brown-eyed girl might be doing this same thing," Ginny replied with a wicked grin. "I'm just hoping that he isn't so thick as to wait ten years to start the process."

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she stifled a small gasp of comprehension. "Ginny! Shame on you!" was all she managed to say before her parents ushered them in the direction of the receiving line.

After dinner, a small orchestra began playing music for dancing. It soon became apparent that Hermione and Ginny were the only teenaged girls present and both were besieged with dance partners almost as soon as Hermione's aunt and uncle finished their dance together. Ginny had great fun whirling about the floor with one partner after another until the party ended around midnight. Mr. and Mrs. Granger collected the two girls and ushered them back to the car and eventually to bed.

It seemed no time before Mrs. Granger was knocking on Hermione's bedroom door with a cheery, "Good morning, girls. It's time to get up." 

Hermione groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. Ginny giggled and climbed reluctantly out of her camp bed. After a quick shower and breakfast, the four piled into Mr. Granger's BMW for the ride to the quaint, old cathedral where the Grangers attended services. The Christening was to be held in a small chapel following the service. Hermione pointed out the baby and several of the couples who had attended last evening's party and Ginny began making mental notes about the service for her father.

After the ceremony Hermione introduced Ginny to the baby and his parents. To Ginny's delight, the young mother let her hold the sleeping infant and was pleasantly surprised when he opened his eyes to discover that they were almost the same shade of green as Harry's. She held him close and began humming a lullaby Mrs. Weasley had sung to her and Ron when they were little. As the baby gurgled contentedly his mother commented, "You must have the magic touch. Roger never lets anyone other than his father and me hold him for more than a minute." Ginny smiled and handed Roger back to his mum.

When they got back to the Grangers' house Hermione insisted that she needed to get some studying done and the two girls soon had their books spread before the massive fireplace in Mr. Granger's study. The room was slightly chilly, so Hermione turned on the gas log in the grate. 

Hermione shook her head as she settled onto the hearthrug next to Ginny. "I can't believe Dad hasn't reconverted this fire place yet," she said with a sigh. "He's such a hold-out from the sixties it's ridiculous. His parents were the first on their street to convert to a gas fire when they first came out and now he insists on keeping this one like that. I don't know what he was thinking when he insisted that the smaller living room fireplace be the one to be converted back to a conventional hearth. He's seen how little room there is the times I've Flooed to the Burrow. Heaven knows he was in for a shock the first time your Dad and Ron slid out of it the summer after second year. It would be so much more convenient if this fireplace became conventional, too."

"I don't mind," Ginny insisted. "It's rather nice not having the embers fly at me like they occasionally do in the common room. Besides, if you show me how it works, I can tell my Dad!" Hermione giggled.

A few minutes later, Ginny looked up from the book she was reading and asked, “What are our plans for tomorrow? Your mum said we didn't have to be back at school until dinner."

"Sleeping in," Hermione answered with a grin. "Then I suppose we should pack our things and get ready to go back to school. If there’s time I could help you study for your O.W.L.s if you’d like. Why?"

"Well, I was hoping to do a little shopping in Diagon Alley,” Ginny said. "I haven't seen Weasley's Wizard Wheezes since August and from what Fred writes, business is even better than it was last June. They seem to be making money hand over fist."

"I'd like to see the shop, too. Come to think of it, I need some more quills and parchment. That last essay Snape had us do on herbs for medicinal potions had to be six feet long. I ran out of parchment half way through and had to use the back. Snape wasn't too thrilled about that," Hermione commented. "I'll see if Mum will take us to the Leaky Cauldron around one. That will give us plenty of time to shop and enjoy the sights." She closed her book and stood up to leave the room.

"It's all settled," she said a few minutes later. "We'll leave here promptly at one and leave our bags at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom has always been really nice about letting me store my purchases in his office the few times I've asked."

"I appreciate it, Hermione,” Ginny said with a smile. "I've had such a good time this week end. Thanks for inviting me."

****************

The girls bade Mr. and Mrs. Granger good-bye outside the Leaky Cauldron the next afternoon. As he turned to leave, Mr. Granger pulled a small package out of his pocket and handed it to Ginny with a smile.

"Give this to your Dad next time you see him,” he said. "I had to replace an outlet in the kitchen a few months ago and saved the broken one for him." 

Ginny accepted the package with a laugh, saying, "Dad will be delighted. He's always pleased when he can add to his collection." 

With that, the two girls walked through the pub and into Diagon Alley. After making stops at Gringotts (to exchange their Muggle money for Wizard currency), Flourish and Blots, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and the Magical Menagerie (for special treats for Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon), Ginny stepped into a wood carver's shop.

"I'll just be a few minutes," she told Hermione who gave her a quizzical look. "I have one more gift to get and this is the only place I can have it made." 

"No problem, Ginny. I'll meet you outside the Quidditch shop in fifteen minutes. I thought I'd get an extra gift for Ron there,” Hermione said with a smile and closed the door.

Ginny pulled a piece of parchment out of her bag and approached the counter. The proprietor greeted her cordially and the two conferred for several minutes before Ginny paid for her gift. The man asked if she would be coming to pick it up and Ginny told him to send it directly to her at Hogwarts by owl post as soon as it was ready. The man made a note on the order form and bade her a pleasant afternoon. 

Their shopping done, Hermione and Ginny walked back to the Leaky Cauldron where they enjoyed a quiet dinner before going back to Hogwarts.


	2. Trouble in the Tower

The portrait slammed shut with such force that all within the Gryffindor common room heard the Fat Lady's squeal of surprise from the other side of the portrait hole. Ginny looked up from her rune translation to stare in surprise as Harry Potter stormed across the room, his face livid with rage, to where Ron and Hermione were playing wizard chess.

"McGonagall's taken me off the Quidditch team!" he shouted to no one in particular.

There was a perceptible gasp throughout the room. No one wanted to believe what they had just heard. The news was just too horrible.

Ron sputtered, "She...she can't do that, can she?"

"I think she can," Hermione said in a subdued voice. "You didn't get in trouble with Snape again, did you?"

"Did you have a fight with Malfoy again?" Ron asked at the same time.

"It's nothing like that," Harry said suddenly sagging.

"But McGonagall wouldn't take you off the Quidditch team unless something was seriously wrong," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head and said defeated, “It is serious and I have no one to blame but myself."

"What happened?" Ron and Hermione asked together.

Harry leaned his bag against the wall and slumped wearily into the nearest chair. "It's my marks," he said running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm failing History of Magic, Divination, Astronomy, and Herbology. The only subject I’m excelling in is Potions and that’s only because I promised myself that I’d show old Snape I can handle his N.E.W.T. level class. I'm weeks behind in turning in my other assignments and McGonagall thinks I need to use the time I spend practicing to get everything turned in. I can't get back on the team until everything is done to her satisfaction."

"What about the match against Slytherin a week from Saturday?" Ron asked with a quiver in his voice. "We can't possibly play without a Seeker!"

Harry sighed heavily. "You're going to have to re-call Ginny. There's no other way around it. She did a good job last year when Umbridge banned me. I've blown it again and don't know if I can get all my work done in two week's time. I'm that far behind." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Maybe McGonagall's right. Maybe I don't have my priorities straight. I just don't know any more."

The common room seemed to quiver as the realization hit other Gryffindors. Around her, Ginny heard a murmur that seemed electrically charged. Some were whispering about whether or not she would be ready to play Seeker in the Slytherin game while others bubbled over with righteous indignation at how unthinking Harry Potter was. Still others were voicing their concerns about Harry's marks: why hadn't anyone helped him get his assignments in on time? Ginny knew the answer to that: Harry was just too tired to do them and too proud to ask for help or deadline extensions. She could tell just by looking at the three seated around the chess board that Harry's sorrow over Sirius' death and his nightly nightmares were finally taking their toll on him. She added her worried thoughts to the stricken looks on Ron and Hermione's faces.

Pushing aside her translation, Ginny rummaged around her table for fresh parchment and began to write a letter home. She was about to sign it when a familiar voice broke into her thoughts and Colin Creevy plopped into a chair beside her.

"Hey, Ginny. What's going on? Why's everyone so upset?" 

"McGonagall took Harry off the Quidditch team," she told him, folding the letter and searching around in her bag for an envelope.

Colin looked stricken. "That's terrible," he said. "What's going to happen with the team?"

"I don't really know. Harry said that if Gryffindor is to play Slytherin in two weeks I'll have to be retrained as Seeker. I suppose there'll be a team meeting tomorrow to discuss it. If the captain insists on holding tryouts anyway, are you interested in being on the team?"

"Maybe. But I don't think I'd be as good as you," he said honestly. "Besides, I like photography better."

"You've taken some first-rate pictures of Harry and the team," Ginny said with a smile. She sobered, saying, "Colin, I'm really sorry, but I need to get to the owlery. It's important that I get my letter out right away. I'm hoping there'll still be a few school owls available...I don't want to use Pigwidgeon if I can help it. Ron's bound to want to write home soon. I just know it."

"May I come with you?"

"Sure, I'd like the company, Colin. Let's go." 

Smiling happily, Colin stood and waited for Ginny to stack her books before they exited the common room through the portrait hole together.

*********  
Ginny was indeed recalled as Seeker and she found it quite easy to slip back into the routine of practice every other day. She was glad that Harry had been at the initial team meeting; his vote of confidence, even if he couldn’t actually vote, encouraged her to try several new moves which might just throw the Slytherin Seeker off the Snitch. 

“Hey Ginny,” Harry called as she left the girls changing room the afternoon before the Slytherin game. “Got a minute?”

“What’s up?”

“Well, I–I just want to wish you luck tomorrow. I’m glad you’re taking my place.”

“Thanks, Harry. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You’ll do a fine job. You’ve got quicker reflexes than Malfoy and you just might trick him into playing badly with the Theopholis Lunge you were practicing today.”

Harry’s praise set Ginny’s heart thumping. This was the first day in two weeks that Harry had not been in Professor McGonagall’s office buried in homework. She was glad that the Deputy Headmistress had let Harry have some time off.

“How’s the homework coming?”

“I’m getting through it. McGonagall had a meeting to go to this afternoon and wouldn’t trust me to be on my own in her office. I have to make up the time tomorrow morning, though, if I want to go to the game.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad, should it?”

“No, it’s just annoying. Well, see you tomorrow, Ginny.”

“Bye, Harry. See you at dinner.” Ginny watched him jog slowly down to the lake and wondered if he would be in the Great Hall when she came down herself.

**********  
The burst of sound which greeted Ginny from the Gryffindor common room nearly bowled her over as she climbed through the portrait hole. It seemed to her that every one of her housemates was celebrating their victory over Slytherin as though it was the last game of the season instead of the first. She smiled to herself as she searched the crowd for Ron; he had repelled all the Slytherin Chasers’ attempts to score with practiced ease and had helped to bring upon that team their worst defeat in three hundred years. Ginny, too, was proud to have had a part in the 710 — 0 defeat of Gryffindor House’s worst rival. After all, it was her catch of the Snitch, which pushed the score to an all-time high.

She finally located her brother, with Hermione sitting on the arm of his chair, near the fire, surrounded by a group of first and second years who were avidly listening to his account of the game. Ron paused and smiled at his sister.

“Great catch there, Gin,” he said. “I loved how you snatched that Snitch right out from under Malfoy’s nose. He was so oblivious to it, I was reminded of that game in second year where Harry did the same thing. The Slytherin team captain was so angry that day we could hear him cussing Malfoy out clear across the pitch. I suspect he got a good talking-to after today’s game, too.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Ginny said grinning. “You didn’t do too badly yourself.”

Ron grinned back as Hermione murmured, “No Fred or George this year I’ll wager...” and received a playful glare from both Ginny and Ron.

“Hey, congratulations, Ron, Ginny!” Colin Creevey had wandered over holding two butterbeers and offered one to Ginny. “Thought you’d like something to drink. The food’s almost gone, so if you’re hungry you’d better get over there.” He indicated one of the study tables which was covered with the remnants of the Gryffindor feeding frenzy.

“Excuse me,” Ginny said to Ron and Hermione. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She followed Colin over to the table, scanning the rest of the room for Harry. As she reached into the bowl of crisps she asked Colin, “Have you seen Harry? I thought he’d be celebrating with us.”

Colin shook his head. “Sorry, Ginny. I haven’t seen Harry since the beginning of the game.” He elaborated as Ginny looked apprehensively at him. “Harry was sitting two rows in front of me on the aisle. He must have slipped out before the game was over.”

Uh-oh. This isn’t good. Ginny thought. Aloud she said, “I need your help, Colin.” She quickly filled a plate from the various dishes in front of her. “Will you go up to Harry’s room and see if he’s up there, please.” 

She waited anxiously for Colin to return. “Not there, Ginny. Why is finding Harry so important?” 

Ginny looked wistfully at her half-eaten plate. “I’ll leave this with Hermione; hopefully she will be able to keep it out of Ron’s reach. Anyway, someone needs to look for Harry. Mum got wind that he isn’t being too social lately and wants us to keep tabs on him. I suppose I’ve been elected since Ron looks as if he’s ensconced in that chair of his. Anyway, I’ll be back soon...hopefully, with Harry in tow.” 

“Do you want company, Ginny?”

“Not this time, no. This is something I have to do alone.”

Colin’s face fell. “All right. See you around.” He turned to leave.

Ginny caught his sleeve. “Wait. Thank you, Colin. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she told him with a sigh. “It’s just that this thing with Harry is really frustrating and it’s got my nerves on edge. I hope you understand.”

“I’m not sure I do. But you should go.”

Ginny smiled her thanks and went to get her cloak just in case she had to go out to the Quidditch pitch again. A bitterly cold snowstorm had blown in during the game. Consequently, the grounds were covered in a blanket of white when she had crossed the grass to the castle after changing out of her Quidditch robes. On her way out of the tower now, she waved at Ron and Hermione and mouthed “Harry” at them.

Ginny paused outside the portrait hole wondering if Harry would dare brave the elements tonight. She decided that he wasn’t that stupid and settled on looking for him inside the castle. She remembered that he had once told her that Dobby used the Room of Requirement when he needed to sober Winky up. Would Harry go there to do some deep thinking or would he be back in Professor McGonagall’s office doing more make-up work? She headed for the Professor’s office first.

The door to Professor McGonagall’s office was ajar and Ginny knocked before entering.

“What may I do for you Miss Weasley?” the Professor inquired.

“I’m looking for Harry, Professor. Have you seen him?”

“Not since this morning. I told him that if Gryffindor won I wouldn’t need to see him until Monday afternoon. Is he missing?”

“He might be. He wasn’t in his dorm and he wasn’t at the party. I thought he might be here.”

“Have you tried the library? I know for a fact that he has several current essays due which require Restricted Section books.”

“I’ll go there next. Thank you, Professor.”

“Good night, Miss Weasley.”

As the door closed behind her Ginny let out a frustrated sigh and then backtracked up to the seventh floor. There, a huge wooden door was set in the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Ginny opened it without knocking, knowing that the door couldn’t be seen if someone with a similar purpose to hers didn’t need it. She fervently hoped that Harry was inside.

The chamber before her was completely different from that of the Dumbledore’s Army meeting room. The dimensions were much more intimate and somehow calming. The walls were lined with beautiful tapestries and a fire was burning in the fireplace to her left. A couch and two squashy armchairs were grouped on a thick rug in front of the fire and in the far corner stood a bed, a small table and a writing desk. 

Harry was seated on the couch looking, to Ginny, as though the world was about to cave in. He had taken a quilt from the bed and was huddled under it: he appeared cold despite the warmth of the room. She shut the door quietly behind herself and walked over to sit next to him, laying her cloak on the back of the couch. 

“We missed you at the party,” she said softly, fishing for something to get him to talk to her about.

“Ginny?” Harry’s voice was barely a croak. 

“Harry, are you all right?”

“No. I’m not,” he said quietly staring at the fire. He rubbed the back of his head and Ginny noticed he was shaking. “I don’t feel very well.”

“Can you tell me about it? I’d like to help if I can.” 

“In a minute. I...there’s something I have to say.”

Ginny waited as Harry seemed to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I had to leave the game,” he murmured. “I just couldn’t watch. I missed your catch.”

“That’s all right, Harry. There will be others. What did you do after you left the game?”

“I walked around the lake for a while,” he answered with a sniff. “I could hear the crowd sometimes when the wind blew the right direction and I knew we were winning, but... ” He paused to sneeze several times and Ginny fished into her robes for her handkerchief. 

“How long were you by the lake?” Ginny asked handing it to him.

“Until sunset. I was pretty cold and wet by then.”

“Then you came up here?”

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like joining the party.”

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at the bed. “How come you didn’t just go to bed?” As she plied him with questions Ginny was aware that she sounded very much like her mother. Mum would be proud of me.

“It was easier coming here. I wanted to be alone.”

“It must have been hard on you not to participate in the game.”

“That, and my head was hurting too much to take the noise of the party.” He sneezed loudly into the hanky again, followed by a fit of ragged coughing. He clutched the quilt more tightly about himself with a wheezed, “Blimy, that hurts!”

A frown creased Ginny’s forehead as she reached up to feel Harry’s. He was hot to the touch and she could feel him trembling. As gently as she could she told him, “Let’s get you into bed. You’re burning up. I’m going for Madam Pomfrey.”

She helped Harry over to the bed and pulled back the covers. He sank onto the pillows and let her take off his wet shoes and socks before she tucked him in. He turned onto his side and was swiftly wracked with another bout of rumbling coughs. They didn’t sound good to Ginny and she knew he needed immediate attention.

“I’m going to go get Madam Pomfrey.”

“Don’t leave me, Ginny. I need you.”

She leaned down and touched his shoulder. “What you need is some proper care. I’m going back to get Ron and Hermione. I’ll send my brother for Madam Pomfrey, but he needs to know where we are. I won’t be very long...I promise.”

Harry shook his head “no”. “Stay here. Please. I feel terrible. I don’t want to be alone.”

Ginny was becoming desperate. If only I had some Floo powder, she thought, looking around.

Almost instantly, a small bowl of Floo powder appeared on the bedside table. She took the bowl over to the hearth and was just about to throw some into the flames when she heard a thud behind her.

She whirled around and found Harry on the floor beside the bed. She sprinted over to him. He was unconscious. Had he thought she was leaving him in spite of his request? Without hesitating, Ginny threw some powder into the flames and stuck her head into the fire calling, “Gryffindor Tower”.

Ron and Hermione suddenly swam into view. Ginny called their names causing both to jump.

“What on earth, Ginny?” Ron exclaimed.

“Where are you?” Hermione inquired.

“The DA room,” she answered. “Harry’s here and he’s passed out. Could one of you go get Madam Pomfrey for me, please?”

Ron was out of his chair instantly, taking charge. “Hermione’ll go. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Thanks. And hurry!”

Ginny pulled her head out of the flames. Going to the bed, she tried to lift Harry back into it. He was dead weight and too heavy for her to move even with a levitation charm. Anxiously, Ginny covered him with the quilt and went to open the door for Ron. Together they managed to lift him back onto the bed as Madam Pomfrey entered with Hermione.

“Oh, that boy!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed coming to stand alongside Ron and Ginny. “He should have come straight to me when he started feeling bad.”

Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchanged worried glances. Harry had given them no indication that he was feeling ill the last few days, but Ginny wasn’t certain he would have done. “He didn’t tell us he wasn’t well,” Ron said defensively. “Otherwise we’d have made him go to see you.” 

Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she inquired, “How was he feeling before he fainted?”

“He said he had a headache and he was sneezing and coughing a lot. He also has a fever,” Ginny told her. “Can you help him here?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Please give me some room.”

The three housemates went over to the fire and Hermione put her arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “We should have come with you,” she said looking reproachfully at Ron.

“That’s all right. You came when I needed you and that’s what counts. Thanks for helping me.” Ginny told them gratefully. “I suppose it’s up to Madam Pomfrey now.”

A few minutes later Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher for Harry and levitated him onto it. “I’m taking him to the hospital wing. He’s one sick young man.” She looked directly at Ginny. “Your observations were very accurate and helpful. I appreciate your assistance.”

Ginny nodded. “How ill is he?”

“Pneumonia, most likely. He’s probably had it for several days from what I can tell.”

“How long will he be in hospital?”

“Three or four days. Now if one of you will open the door, we’ll be on our way.” With that, Madam Pomfrey aimed her wand at Harry’s stretcher and guided it out into the hall, Ginny, Ron and Hermione following close behind her.

***********

Harry stayed in the hospital wing for four days. When at last he was allowed to go back to lessons he was listless and easily worn-out. Ginny, Ron and Hermione did everything they could to support him, from keeping him awake in class to making him take naps after lessons to seeing that he went to all his meals. By the end of the week he seemed a little better.

He stopped Ginny on Friday evening as she came back from studying in the library. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

“I haven’t thanked you properly for what you did for me last Saturday.”

“That’s all right, Harry. I’d do that for any of my friends.”

“I know you would and I just wanted to let you know I’m grateful.”

“Then, you’re welcome. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am, thanks to you. Well, good night. I’m turning in early.”

“Good night, Harry. Sleep well.”

**********

Over the next few weeks Ginny corresponded with her parents almost daily keeping them up-to-date on what she knew about Harry's situation. It didn't look good. His illness had put a stop to all school work for the four days and he had been forced to ask for several extensions on his current homework. Added to that, Professor McGonagall was still making him complete all his back assignments in her office each afternoon after class for two hours. He usually emerged just in time for dinner.

Most evenings, Harry hardly ate anything, toying with his food just long enough to be sociable and then disappearing for about an hour. Ginny watched him curiously, wondering if Harry was taking his Firebolt for solitary flights as he had earlier in the year despite his weakened condition. On a frigid night almost as windy as the first, she bolted her own dinner, made her excuses, and followed him as closely as she dared out of the Great Hall. Sure enough, Harry headed first for Gryffindor Tower, then made his way down to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny retrieved her own broom from the broom shed but did not fly to her usual perch high in the stadium. Instead, she crept under the stands to the edge of the pitch and watched him dive and soar for a few minutes. Then, she headed back to Gryffindor Tower to write another letter.

Ron and Hermione entered the common room just as Ginny finished. She called them over as she slid her letter into an envelope.

"Hey, what's up, Gin?" Ron asked walking over to her table.

"Have a seat. We need to talk," she said indicating two chairs. "It's about Harry."

"What about him?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked at her candidly. "You know I was concerned about him when I was at your house, right? Well, I think it's time we--you, me and Ron--acted like his family. Hermione, you said that my Mum asked you to make sure Harry eats, right? Have you looked at how thin he's become lately? If you haven't noticed, Harry's hands are just skin and bone and his face just looks positively ghastly. And that’s not just the result of spending four days in the hospital wing! Have you and Ron been so wrapped up in your Prefects duties not to notice how Harry just pushes his food around his plate each night?" Ron and Hermione exchanged guilty glances.

She rounded on her brother. "And you, Ron. How can you sleep at night knowing that your best friend has nightmares so bad that he spends half the night pacing the common room trying to get the gumption up to go back to bed for two or three hours? Don't look at me like that Ronald Weasley. I've had a few bad nights this term and sometimes it's been almost a race to see whether Harry or I get down here first...he usually beats me to the comfy chair by the fireplace." Ron hung his head and said nothing; he just looked guilty.

"Anyway, I've made a decision," Ginny continued. "The last time we went to Hogsmeade I did two things. I bought a small bag of Floo Powder and I asked Madam Rosmerta if I could use her fireplace if I ever needed to go home quickly and couldn't use the school fires. Well, I'm going home this weekend. Mum and Dad and I have been writing back and forth ever since Harry was kicked off the Quidditch team. I think it's time we talked in person. I don't know how long I'll be gone; I could be back Saturday evening or sometime Sunday. I just wanted you to know where I'm going."

Hermione looked pointedly at Ron who said, "Well, if you're going home, so am I. Shall I owl Mum and Dad that we're coming? Or would you rather we just showed up in the kitchen Saturday morning?"

Ginny smiled. "Send Pigwidgeon to Mum. She'll appreciate the notice."

Hermione asked, “How will you get to Hogsmeade?"

It was Ron's turn to look smug. "The same way Fred and George used to...through Honeydukes."

"Oh. But isn't that breaking a lot of school rules?"

Ron and Ginny looked at each other. "Loads!" they said together grinning.


	3. The Understanding Heart

Ginny and Ron arrived at the Burrow early Saturday morning. As the Gryffindor common room fireplace was connected to the Floo network, they hadn’t needed to sneak into the Three Broomsticks after all. Still, they had arrived at The Burrow sooty and coughing from the long journey. Mrs. Weasley greeted them with open arms and bustled them to the kitchen table for breakfast. Between mouthfuls, they added to what she knew about Harry from their letters. She was dismayed to know that Harry was losing weight and was still flying about the Quidditch stadium in the dark each night.

Ron came to his defence. "I've told you before, Mum; when Harry flies, he clears his mind. It’s his way of letting off steam. Don't you agree it's better than trying to start a duel or insulting someone on purpose like Malfoy does? Harry just pushes that Firebolt of his as fast as it will go."

"We'll talk about that when your father gets home. I do hope that's soon. He and his team are finding many more dangerous items at each house he raids nowadays, and I worry about him,” Mrs. Weasley told him. "In the meantime, I'd better write to Dumbledore; this is shaping up to be quite the family meeting, and most likely the result will be everyone coming home for Christmas this year, including Harry and Hermione. They’ll need his permission to leave the school for the holidays."

This was welcome news to both Ginny and Ron, and Ginny felt she had accomplished something already. However, she knew she must put her two Knuts worth in and push for a weekend sooner than the Christmas holidays as well. For Harry’s sake, she hoped they could work something out. He needed to talk to someone, and she sincerely hoped someone in her family could help him.

As they waited for their father, Ginny glanced around the familiar kitchen, her eyes finally landing on the family clock. Her father's, Bill's, Charlie's, and the twins' hands pointed to 'Work', while her Mum's, Ron's and her own hands pointed to 'Home'. Percy’s, unfortunately, was pointed to ‘Lost’, which meant that her third eldest brother had yet to make amends with her parents. She shook her head, knowing that her mother kept Percy’s hand on the clock out of sheer optimism. It was then that she took a second look at the clock. That's odd, she thought, there are eleven hands instead of nine! Smiling, she nudged Ron and pointed to the clock. His eyes widened as he comprehended the implications of the extra hands, which were pointing toward 'School'. 

"Mum,” he asked, “Why are there hands for Harry and Hermione on the family clock now?”

“Oh, that,” Mrs. Weasley said smiling. “I was going to tell you about that and forgot. I had your father add the hands several weeks ago because of all the trouble You-Know-Who caused at the Ministry. I thought it would be nice to know where all of you are; I knew Ginny was in trouble several years ago when her hand suddenly pointed to 'Mortal Peril'.” At this, Ginny gave an audible gasp. She hadn’t known about that. “And with you, Harry, Hermione, and now Ginny haring off into who knows what kind of trouble, I wanted to at least be alerted so I could check up on all of you.”

“But Harry and Hermione aren’t family,” Ron protested.

“To me they are, dear,” her mother said with a smile. “Goodness knows, Harry could do with a little mothering every once in a while. Besides, he and Hermione have spent part or all of the summer with us for the last five years and they certainly make themselves at home when they are with us.”

"If you put it that way, I suppose so," Ron conceded and Ginny thought she caught a twinkle in her mum's eye. Was her mum alluding to a possible romantic tryst? Ginny certainly hoped so for Hermione's sake. A new thought crossed her mind. Is Mum hoping for something along those lines for Harry and me, too? she wondered. Probably, for she knew her mother was a matchmaker at heart and heartily approved of Harry.

Mr. Weasley Apparated into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, a thick satchel slung over his shoulder. 

"Homework, Dad?" Ron asked.

"Unfortunately, son, that is the reality of working in the Ministry these days. The more we raid, the more forms must be completed...in triplicate! I'm beginning to think that the Ministry's motto should be changed to 'Kill a tree to save a Wizard.'"

Everyone chuckled at that and a few minutes later gathered around the kitchen table, Mrs. Weasley ready to take notes on what was being said. Ginny took it upon herself to begin the family meeting.

"Mum and Dad," Ginny began, "Ron and I want to do something for Harry. You know he's having a terrible year from what we've written to you; his mental state couldn't be worse. He refuses to talk to anyone and is too caught up in his emotions to study properly. It's as if he's distancing himself from us because of something that happened with Professor Dumbledore after the fight at the Ministry last June. He just is about as lost as a person can get."

Ron took over. "What we want to ask is this; can Harry and Hermione come home with us for a weekend in December, as soon as possible, and not related to the Christmas holiday?”

“Two days away from Hogwarts would probably be enough to at least give Harry a chance for a good night’s sleep. He’s told me he sleeps better when he’s here,” Ginny said. “Though I think he’d just settle for a couple of good naps if he could get them.”

“Remember that Hermione’s parents invited Ginny for that weekend in October, so it just seems natural to invite her,” Ron put in.

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her notes. “And what do you two propose to do with all the homework you’ll be assigned prior to your coming here? You both know you have end of term exams coming up.”

“I’m sure Hermione will keep us on task by making us bring our homework with us,” Ginny said with a smile. “She’s really good at organizing study groups, and I’m sure she’d see to it that we didn’t play Quidditch the entire time we were here. Come to think of it, maybe she’d help me with my O.W.L. preparation like she did Ron and Harry last year.” 

The senior Weasleys looked at each other. Finally, Mr. Weasley said, “It might take some doing, but I think it can be arranged.” He turned to his wife. “Would two weeks from now be enough notice? I think the first weekend in December is the best for me. How about you, Molly?”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “I’d better write that letter to Professor Dumbledore right away.” She looked at her children. “I hope Harry knows what good friends he has. He’s a lucky young man.”

**********  
Ginny automatically looked for Harry as she strode through the common room the next morning. (He was nowhere to be seen.) She was feeling quite pleased with herself for having spearheaded the special weekend trip to The Burrow for him and Hermione. It would do them both good to get away from Hogwarts for a few days, and she knew Ron was looking forward to going home again just as much as she was. Hopefully, the four of them would obtain Dumbledore’s permission to leave the school.

As for Harry, he hadn’t been in the library when she had checked a few minutes ago; Ginny knew that Professor McGonagall wanted Sundays to herself, so Harry wouldn’t be doing make-up work this morning. A thoughtful frown wrinkled her forehead as she trudged up the Girls’ staircase to her dorm room. Harry could be anywhere in the huge castle or at Hagrid’s, but she doubted the latter knowing that Harry hardly ever went down there these days just to talk. He’s probably in the Room of Requirement again, she thought as she exchanged her toiletries for her school books. This may be my opportunity to talk to him without Ron or Hermione present. 

She left the heavy bag on her bed and made her way back through the common room and past the Fat Lady who asked, “Didn’t you go in just a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, I did. I needed to run up to my room for a moment.” Ginny was just about to leave when a thought occurred to her. “Did Harry Potter go to breakfast this morning?”

The portrait thought for a moment. “No. He left early yesterday evening, but he hasn’t re-entered. At least he didn’t wake me up at an odd hour like he sometimes does.”

Uh-oh. Not good. Ginny then said aloud, “Do you recall which way he went? This could be rather important if he hasn’t returned.”

Again, the Fat Lady was thoughtful. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I’m certain he turned toward the Owlery. Is he missing?”

Ginny shook her head. “No. I think I know where he went. You’ve been quite helpful, thank you,” she said, and turned toward the Room of Requirement hoping Harry would be there. 

She was correct. Harry was again seated on the couch, lost in thought. He had drawn his legs close to his chest and was resting his chin on his kneecaps staring into the fire. It was a posture Ginny had seen him in many times before the hearth in the common room and as always, it tugged at her heart to see him like this. She walked over to the fireside and stood before him, hoping that she wouldn’t startle him when she spoke.

"May I sit?" When Harry nodded she sat down next to him facing the fire.

“Neville told me you weren’t at breakfast this morning.” When Harry didn’t respond, she continued. “I asked the Fat Lady if she had admitted you during the night, and she said no. I’m glad I found you, Harry. Hermione was getting worried.” Ginny hoped this little fib wouldn’t get back to her friend.

“She shouldn’t have bothered. I was right here all along.”

“I tried to tell her that, but you know Hermione...I think she took it more seriously than usual because Ron and I had to go home.”

“How come?”

“Family stuff. You doing all right, Harry?”

He nodded, but seemed more interested in what the fire was doing than in continuing their conversation.

Yeah, right. Ginny thought. You’re so all right you’re hiding from your friends! You’re not going to get away with this, Potter! She tried again to draw him out with the first thing that crossed her mind, his plans for the Christmas holiday. “Are you going back to the Dursleys’ for Christmas?”

Harry’s head whipped around, and he looked at her as though she had just sprouted antlers. “Are you kidding? Why would I do a stupid thing like that? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are about as fond of me as Ron is of spiders!”

Ginny grimaced. “That’s not saying much.”

“No, it isn’t. But it’s the truth. It’s no big deal.” 

Realization hit Ginny hard. "I thought so,” she said sceptically. She changed tactics. “It must be hard for you sometimes when most of Gryffindor House chooses to go home to our families during the holidays," she commented, compassion creeping into her voice.

Harry eyed her warily. It was as if he was trying to decide what to make of her comment. "You have no idea how hard it is sometimes," he finally admitted honestly. 

"Try me."

Harry stood and crossed the rug to the fire. Turning to face Ginny, he said, "All my life I've wanted to be part of something I‘ve been denied by the Dursleys; a real family. When I came here and met Ron and Hermione, I finally felt as though I belonged somewhere. They liked me for whom I was and weren't scared of me because I was different. McGonagall was right–they became the first real family I’d ever had.”

“What do you mean, Harry?”

Harry hesitated before explaining. “For the first time in my life Dudley wasn’t around to intimidate the people who wanted to get to know me. That year I had a choice of where I could spend Christmas. I chose to stay here and Ron elected to keep me company rather than go with your parents to visit Charlie. That’s when I finally understood what ‘Happy Christmas’ was supposed to mean.”

“That can’t possibly be true! You must have been included in the Dursleys’ celebrations, right?”

“I don’t know how much Ron has told you about the Christmas presents they’ve sent me, but my only experience with Christmas at the Dursleys was to watch Dudley open mounds of presents every year. I sometimes didn’t get to open anything!” 

“That’s awful!” Ginny exclaimed indignantly. She wanted to hex them into next year for treating Harry like that! They deserve to end up like Malfoy did at the end of last year’s train ride home!

“That’s the Dursleys for you,” Harry remarked glumly. Then he brightened. “You can imagine what it felt like to actually receive real presents for the first time!” Ginny watched as a smile spread over Harry’s face, and he began rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully after a silence, “I felt accepted by my other housemates, too, when I became Seeker for the Quidditch team. Suddenly, I was important for my abilities and I gained confidence with each game and practice.” He stopped bouncing and leaned back against the mantle.

Ginny nodded. “I remember how excited everyone was my first year about our chances to win the Quidditch Cup that year, especially after that Slytherin game where a Bludger broke your arm and Lockhart de-boned it.” 

Harry grimaced. “Do you have to bring up Lockhart?”

Ginny smiled wickedly back at him. “In Gryffindor tower, at least, you were the most popular player on the team! You have no idea how worried everybody was after that game.”

“I think I do,” Harry said thoughtfully. “But it was short-lived once the Basilisk began petrifying people.”

It was now Ginny’s turn to scowl. “Thanks for reminding me,” she said sourly as Harry chuckled. I guess I had that coming after reminding him about that game.

He sobered. "That feeling of belonging changed last year. I was kept in the dark about Voldemort’s activities last summer and by the time I got to Grimmauld Place, I was angry at everyone. It wasn’t a good way to start a difficult school year.” 

“No one ever said Fifth Year was going to be a piece of cake, Harry.”

“You’ve got that right. Especially with Umbridge around.” Ginny watched in fascination as Harry began rubbing at the thin white scars covering the back of his right hand as he brought up the former High Inquisitor.

“She was definitely not everyone’s favourite teacher,” she commented dryly. “Well, maybe Slytherins’.”

“Yeah, Malfoy and Parkinson practically fawned over her.”

“And delighted whenever anyone from the other houses was given detention in her office.”

Harry looked down at his hand. “I don’t know which was worse; Umbridge ordering me not to tell lies or her banning me from ever playing Quidditch.” 

A frustrated sigh escaped Harry and his face took on a guarded expression as he suddenly demanded, “Remind me why we’re talking about this.”

Ginny sighed, too. She was feeling encouraged by how Harry was uncharacteristically opening up to her, and she was worried that he might close up again. “I dared you to tell me about your life at the Dursleys’,” she said simply. 

Harry turned away, staring over Ginny’s head at the tapestry on the opposite wall. “Well, now you know,” he mumbled.

“No, Harry, I don’t. However, I suspect that last year you began feeling as though you had never left that cupboard they stuffed you into when you were little." 

He didn’t look at her. “You’ve got that right.”

“I also know that Ron has told Mum and Dad and Siri–other members of the Order–about how abusive they are to you. Why else would Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye corner the Dursleys at King’s Cross last summer?”

Harry didn’t respond verbally, but his body language suggested he was withdrawing into himself. 

Ginny nearly panicked and kicked herself mentally. Everything had been going so well...and now she had almost ruined the moment by saying something stupid. She couldn’t let the conversation just die right here after reminding Harry of how unloved he was. What kind of friend does that? 

There seemed to be one more hurdle she must ask Harry to jump before she could make her point and she knew she was treading on shaky ground as she said, “Ron mentioned once that the Dursleys tried hard to squash the magic out of you in every way possible when you were little–that they still do. I’ve seen the look of loathing in your eyes at King’s Cross every summer and I think I understand how much you hate going back to Privet Drive.”

“You’ve guessed it,” Harry muttered, turning to face Ginny again. Her heart went out to Harry when she saw the dejected, somewhat angry look on his face. “Watching all of you go home to loving families tears at me every time summer holiday comes around, because when I go home, I’m treated like something lower than dirt.”

“They hate magic that much?”

Harry began to pace between the couch and the fireplace. “It’s not natural to be a wizard in their family, Ginny,” he told her bluntly. “Whenever I did something as a child that they considered unnatural, they either gave me chores to do or shut me in my cupboard as punishment!” 

At this, Ginny closed her eyes and shuddered. “And they even gave Dudley the things you wanted just for the pleasure of seeing you suffer!” she whispered. Indignant anger spread through her. How could they justify such abominable treatment? 

Looking up at the young man pacing in front of her she said sadly, “I’m sorry, Harry. I know I’ve dredged up bad memories and I shouldn’t have. It’s just that I’m trying to understand your correlation between living at the Dursleys’ and your feelings about last year.”

He stopped in front of her. “Don't you see it, Ginny?” Harry asked her vehemently, his frustration very evident. “Both Umbridge and now Professor McGonagall have taken away what I want most to do besides becoming a qualified wizard and possibly an Auror, just as the Dursleys do. Umbridge took Quidditch away from me last year because she knew its loss would hurt me like nothing else could; she enjoyed making me suffer. This year, McGonagall seems to think that by denying me my place on the team I'll straighten up and get over what is bothering me, what is keeping me up at night.” Harry turned back to the fire and banged his palm against the stone mantelpiece. “She is so wrong!" 

Ginny rose from the couch and went to stand beside him. "How is she wrong? I’d like to know.”

"It’s complicated," he said, seeming to clam up yet again.

Ginny decided it was time to ease up a little on Harry and change the topic. He obviously wanted to keep something private, probably whatever it was that he’d come here to think about in the first place, but she needed to let him know that he could talk to her.

“If you ever need someone to talk with again, I’m willing to listen,” she told him quietly and reached up to pat his elbow.

Harry glanced down at her touch, but she didn’t withdraw her hand. “Thanks, Ginny.”

“Any time.” She paused, composing her words carefully and hoping what she was going to say next wouldn’t put Harry on the defensive yet again. “Harry, I’ve been wondering about something and I’d like an honest answer.”

Harry eyed her apprehensively, but made no comment. 

“Is the reason you’ve made such a mess of this year your nightmares or your grief over Sirius’ death? Or is it...something else?”

Harry stared into the fire for a long time before answering. “I reckon it’s a little of both…as well as something else…and then there’s all of last year, which wasn’t great either. I’m still trying to get over what happened, I reckon.” 

“I think we all are. Both the good and the bad. Look at how Ron finally realized what Hermione really means to him and finally acted on it? Or how about Neville? He proved to himself that he wasn’t almost a Squib; that even though he has his limitations, he can still hold his own and be an important part of a fight if necessary.”

“Those are the good things, Ginny. What I can’t get out of my head are the bad things.” 

“I thought so... “ She was silent for a moment, thinking. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to dwell so much on the negative stuff?”

Harry began to pace. “It’s best if I remember. So much of what’s happened in the last year has been my fault.”

“Oh, come off it, Harry,” she said huffily, beginning to pace herself. “Thinking that you have to shoulder all the responsibility for what happened last year is uncalled for. You think it’s the noble thing to do, but it isn’t. Thinking that you deserve to hurt so much it interferes with your school work is not right! I’ve been watching you all year, Harry, and it pains me that you won’t forgive yourself for being human. It’s killing you, and I don’t like what you’re doing to yourself...neither do Ron and Hermione. You didn’t ask to be who you are and you don’t deserve to have your world turned upside down every time you turn around.” She was close to tears now, but she didn’t care. She was too emotionally involved in the moment and needed to speak her mind. 

“I deserve everything that’s happened to me, Ginny,” Harry told her quietly.

“You don’t, Harry. But I guess it doesn’t matter to you how much others hope for your future or want to help you shoulder your burdens. I can see you’re determined to shut me and everyone else out.” With that, Ginny sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, letting the tears fall freely through her fingers.

She heard Harry approach and felt the cushions sink under his weight. “Ginny, don’t cry,” he said awkwardly, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you. Here. Wipe your eyes.” 

Ginny took the proffered handkerchief. She tried one more time. “We care...I care about you. That’s why I’m upset and I hope you know you can always talk to me and I won’t try to judge you.”

“I’m beginning to see that. It’s just going to take me a while.” 

They sat in silence until Ginny said, “But Harry, I still don’t see why you left Gryffindor tower yesterday and didn’t return last night.”

“Think about it, Ginny. When you and Ron left without telling me yesterday morning what could I do?”

“Stay put and be safe.”

“Yeah, like I’m really safe anywhere any more.”

Ginny didn’t like where this conversation seemed to be going, so she shifted tactics. “What did you do after you left the tower?”

“I walked around the lake mostly–don’t worry, I made sure I stayed warm this time. When it got dark, I came up here. I just couldn’t get over the fact that the two of you hadn’t told me you were going home.”

Ginny gasped, the realization of what he had just said finally registering. “Oh, dear! I’m so sorry, Harry! Ron was supposed to tell you we were going home days ago. Oh, I’m going to hex him into next week for forgetting to tell you our plans!”

“Don’t. Gryffindor needs him Saturday for the Ravenclaw game. Ron needs to concentrate and having a residual twitch won’t do him any good. It took Malfoy over week to recover completely from your Bat-Bogy Hex last June, you know.” Harry smiled at the thought. “There’s no need to apologize, Ginny. I figured you had your reasons for telling only Hermione where you were going.” 

“But we were so thoughtless....”

“Just let it go, Ginny. I’m not angry with you or Ron.” He turned to face her. “I’m finally angry with myself, though. You see, this is the first chance I’ve had to hole up somewhere and think about things uninterrupted, when I haven’t awakened from a nightmare and had to deal with it.”

Ginny nodded, trying to understand what Harry was telling her.

Harry sighed and then continued. “For the last month, I’ve listened to Professor McGonagall’s diatribe about upholding the Hogwarts educational standards and not letting self-pity ruin my chances for top marks if I want to be an Auror. Basically, she’s been telling me to grow up. I guess I’ve known she’s right all along, but have been too thick to admit to myself that I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. Anyway, I decided I can’t wallow in self-inflicted misery much longer. It’s not getting me anywhere and it’s not much fun.”

“What will you do?”

“Get rid of that pile of back assignments that is slowly dwindling in McGonagall’s office a lot faster and keep up with my current homework load, for starters.”

“That’s good. What else?”

”Let’s just leave it at that right now, all right? There is something else, but I don’t want to go into it right now.”

“Is there anything Ron, Hermione and I can do to help you?”

“No. This is something I have to deal with on my own.”

“All right. I’ll accept you want to keep this to yourself a little longer. Just think about this, though...when I was getting over that horrible year with Tom Riddle, Mum and Dad insisted that I talk about it once to get it over with. It took me most of the summer to work up the nerve, but once I did, my nightmares and depression were easier to deal with. They’ve never completely gone away, but I have ways to cope now.” She stopped and looked deeply into Harry’s troubled face. “I just hope that you’ll find a way to master what’s bothering you. I really do.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment before muttering, “Yeah, me, too.”

The two of them sat in silence watching the fire. Finally, Ginny glanced at her watch and found that it was past lunch time and she was quite hungry. Breakfast at The Burrow had been a long time ago. “Harry,” she queried, “Have you eaten anything since yesterday morning?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since Friday at dinner.”

Ginny sighed in exasperation. “You need to take care of yourself better, Harry. You’re going to get sick again if you don’t.”

For the first time that day Harry smiled genuinely. “You sound like your Mum,” he told her.

Ginny smiled back. “Good. She’ll be proud of me,” she said. Then, to the Room itself she requested, “May we have a plate of sandwiches, some fruit, and something to drink, please.” Moments later, Dobby strode through the door bearing a tray heaped with sandwiches, a bowl of assorted fruit, and a flagon of pumpkin juice.

“Here you are, Miss Weezy. Is there anything else Dobby can get for you and Harry Potter?”

Ginny smiled at the elf. “No, thank you, Dobby. I appreciate your bringing our meal so quickly and efficiently.”

Dobby bowed low and left the room. Ginny giggled to herself at the thought that Dobby was actually slightly embarrassed by her praise.

Harry noticed Ginny’s giggle. “What?” he said, irritated.

“Oh, nothing. Just a private thought. Here, help yourself. We’re not going back to the common room until you’ve had a decent meal.”

Harry acquiesced and he and Ginny spent the next three-quarters of an hour munching happily and talking about Quidditch.

**********

Several nights later, Ginny quietly left her dormitory to make her way down to the common room. She'd been awakened by a nightmare and had found it hard to go back to sleep. Maybe a few minutes reading by the fire would nudge her toward slumber again.

She paused at the bottom of the Girls staircase. Someone was already in the common room, and since it was one in the morning, she didn't feel like walking in on two of the sixth or seventh years snogging in a corner as she had several other times. She never knew who was the most embarrassed; the couple she caught, or herself. At any rate, she listened for the distinct sounds of kissing and, hearing none, made her way through the dark toward her favourite squashy armchair.

She was just about to sit down when a voice called quietly, "Who's there?"

"Ginny Weasley,” she replied, pausing. "Harry? Is that you?"

"Yeah. What are you doing up?" He was huddled at the very end of one of the couches facing the dying fire. He looked sad and withdrawn with his arms hugging his legs and his chin resting on his knees.

"Can't sleep. I've got a lot on my mind and decided to try to read myself sleepy," Ginny told him indicating her History of Magic book. "What about you?"

"The same,” Harry muttered with a huge sigh. 

Ginny walked over to him. "May I sit here?" she asked and plopped down next to him without waiting for an answer. It was then that she noticed his eyes were red and puffy and his face glistened with sweat. "Are you all right, Harry? Has something happened?"

Harry passed a shaky hand over his face. "No, it's nothing like that, Gin. I’m fine, really.” He glanced at Ginny and seeing her skeptical look, tried again. “That’s not true. I...I...Ginny, I had another dream. I woke Neville up it was so bad.” He paused, seeming to steady himself. “It wasn’t like those I had last year. No, this one was much more...terrifying...very dark and scary. I woke up screaming. Neville was shaking me awake to get me to stop. He said I was yelling that something couldn’t be true, that it was all Professor Trelawney’s fault. I’ve...I've never awakened Neville before; it's always been Ron who's gotten to me first. I felt so bad about it, I came down here."

It was happening; Harry was opening up to her. Ginny put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about your dream, Harry. Would telling me more about it help? Or would you like to talk about something else?"

“I don’t know. There’s a part of me that wants to tell someone and another that doesn’t.” Harry said with a sigh.

“Would you just like some company, then?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he said and settled his chin back onto his knees, gazing steadily at the fire again as the emotionless mask he wore most days fell into place. 

Ginny smiled at Harry, opened her book, and settled back against the sofa cushions, hoping that the tedious prose would quickly make her sleepy so that she could leave Harry to his brooding.

She had read three pages when she heard Harry inquire hesitantly, “Ginny?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what?”

“Do you...do you sometimes feel like you have no control over your life?” Harry had turned to look at her. The mask was still there, but not as intensely.

Ginny closed her book, keeping a finger between the pages to mark her place. “You mean like when Mum tells me I’m too young to be involved in something or I can’t do it because I’m a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes,” she said pensively. “Especially when it has something to do with the Order I want to be involved in. Obviously, I’m not too happy about it. I hate being excluded and will voice my opinion, if that’s what you mean.”

Harry nodded, acknowledging her answer, then asked, “How did you feel last year when Umbridge started posting her Educational Decrees?”

Ginny thought a moment. “Angry, certainly. And maybe a little rebellious.”

“But you were happy most of the time, even after Fred and George left?”

“I was sad when they left. I had thought we’d spend the entire year together, no matter how bad a year it was, and was a little confused as to why they hadn’t directly told me and Ron what their plans were.”

“You reckon they dropped hints, though?”

“I’m sure they did, but neither of us realized what was going on until the day they set off the swamp, even after their stunt with the fireworks,” she said opening her book again to mark her place with her bookmark instead of her finger. “Come to think of it, Ron and I should have cornered Fred and George after they talked to you about their diversion and tried to dissuade them from doing it. Ron told me Hermione really laid it on thick that day.” Harry smiled, remembering, as Ginny said thoughtfully, “I don’t know why we didn’t, although I remember not wanting to get in trouble with Professor Umbridge.”

Harry nodded again and stared back at the embers. He seemed to retreat into himself once again at the mention of the former High Inquisitor and Ginny watched him stroke the scars on his hand for the second time in a week.

”Harry, what are you feeling right now?” she finally asked.

“I’m confused, Ginny. There’s a lot of stuff swimming around in my head right now,” he told her. “I guess I feel…overloaded. Scared, maybe, too.”

“How so?” She waited in silence, her hand now resting on his shoulder. 

“It’s like I can’t control what’s going on in my life.” 

“Do you mean your grief over Sirius?”

Harry shook his head. “I deal with that when I’m on my Firebolt. Being back on the Quidditch team helped a lot with that.”

“Then it must be something else?”

Harry didn’t answer her right away. After a long moment, Harry seemed to shake himself mentally. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I heard the prophecy, Ginny. The one Voldemort wanted.”

“When?” she murmured. She couldn’t believe what Harry seemed to be about to reveal.

Harry’s voice grew stronger as he continued. It was as though he had made up his mind to trust her. “I…I heard it...that night in Dumbledore’s office.”

“The night we fought the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries?”

“Yes.”

“How? I thought the ball smashed during the fight.”

“It did...when I ripped Neville’s robes.” Harry stopped and ran a hand distractedly through his hair making it stick out even more than it had been. “Dumbledore retrieved his memory of it using his Pensieve, though.”

“You’re saying that the prophesy was told to Professor Dumbledore? Who was the Seer?”

“Professor Trelawney. She made the prediction to him when she interviewed for the position of Divination teacher before I was born.”

A little “Oh,” of surprise escaped Ginny as she assimilated this information. “So after she made the prediction, Dumbledore hired her?”

“It looks that way. Funny, isn’t it, how my life seems to be full of such coincidences,” Harry remarked dryly.

“I’m not certain I’d say it that way, Harry. It does look rather dubious, though, as if Professor Dumbledore had some ulterior motive.” She paused, thinking. “I remember seeing the label under the prophesy. It had a bunch of letters, probably the initials of the Seer and receiver, a mention of V-Voldemort, and a question mark before your name. Do you know what it all means?”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Uh huh. The sphere containing the prophesy was marked ‘Unknown’ by the Department of Mysteries at the time the prediction was made. I reckon they didn’t know who the second predictee was.”

Ginny was beginning to see pieces of the complex puzzle fall into place. “But your name was added to the label? Why?”

“Voldemort killed my parents.”

“And gave you your scar,” Ginny volunteered and began thinking aloud. “So that means...that for some reason V-Voldemort singled you out. Harry, why would he bother trying to kill you when your parents were working for Dumbledore?”

“He didn’t know all of the prophesy.”

“But...how did he know about it in the first place?” Ginny frowned, thinking hard. “Don’t tell me...someone was listening to Trelawney’s interview...and they were discovered before Professor Trelawney finished with the prediction.” When Harry nodded she continued. “Okay...Answer me this: how come only you were targeted? Weren’t Ron and Neville and Seamus and Dean and Hermione and all the rest of your class born in 1980, too? Why weren’t they earmarked?”

Harry sighed and said, “Trelawney predicted that the one to kill Voldemort would be born in late July to parents who were working against him. Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Hermione all were born in months other than July. And their parents were either Muggles or weren’t defying Voldemort.”

“So...that leaves...Neville? Oh, my...” Ginny stared at Harry as she said, more than a little alarmed, “His parents were Aurors! He was born in July, too!”

“How did you know that?” Harry asked, startled.

“Ron. He said something about it in passing several years ago. This is the first time I’ve thought of that...” She concentrated hard as she said, ”So you’re telling me that the two of you were singled out, but only one was given the scar. And...And...”

There was complete silence in the common room, save the popping of the coals in the grate, as Ginny gaped at Harry. “Merlin’s beard, Harry! You...you’ve been chosen to...to...to kill V-Voldemort!” She exclaimed quietly. “Now I understand!”

He looked directly at Ginny, although he seemed reluctant to speak. “I…I’m a marked man, Ginny,” he said flatly. “When Voldemort killed my parents and then tried to kill me, he marked me as…as the only one who can ever defeat him. Just as Trelawney said. Do you understand, Ginny, that no matter what I do, my life is not my own? That my destiny is to kill or be killed?” Harry shuddered. 

Ginny took Harry’s hand in hers. “That’s a lot to deal with,” she whispered.

“But that’s it,” Harry protested. “I’m not dealing with it. I can’t get it out of my head that no matter what I do I will either be a murderer or a victim! I have no choice! Do you understand what that means? Do you? I do, and I can’t face the truth! It’s eating me up inside, Ginny, more than my guilt over causing Sirius’ death. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I’m so distracted and scared I can’t concentrate on anything except Potions!” 

Harry wrenched away from Ginny and stood up, walking over to the hearth. He kept his back to her as he leaned his forehead against the ancient stone. “You’re the first person I’ve told about this,” he continued quietly. “I couldn’t face Ron and Hermione in June knowing what their reactions would be. I couldn’t face their compassion. They have no idea what a burden I’m carrying around. They’d be repulsed knowing what I know.” Turning around he said, “Now that you know, I don’t understand how can you calmly sit there and look me in the face when I’ve got blood on my hands!”

Ginny joined him in front of the mantelpiece. “It’s all right to be scared, Harry. No one ever said you shouldn’t feel that way. I mean, you’re carrying a lot of responsibility!” she began. Again, she stepped closer and placed her hand upon his arm. “And as impossible as it seems, Harry, you are my friend. I’ve known you a long time; I think I know who you are. And because you’re my friend, I don’t look down on you because you can’t change your circumstances. I want to try to help you accept your fate. You’re a good person, Harry, the best. No matter what happens, or when it happens, or how it all ends, I believe in you, even though you’ve never asked me to. Ron and Hermione feel the same. We would never abandon you or think less of you because you were chosen to vanquish V-Voldemort. I…we, will be at your side when the time comes for your final battle with V-Voldemort. Please Harry, never doubt that we will always be your friends.” 

Harry stared at her. “You mean it, don’t you?”

“I do, Harry, with all my heart. And I hope that the knowledge that we’re behind you will help ease your mind a little.” Ginny peered into Harry’s eyes. All she could see in the dim light was a look of astonishment at her words. She hoped what she was about to say would give Harry the idea that his friends would never abandon him.

“Ron was going to talk to you about something in the morning. Mum and Dad want Ron and me to come home for the weekend the first week in December. Charlie’s coming home briefly and they want the whole lot of us to be there. They want you and Hermione to come, too, since you’re practically family. Mum owled me tonight that the two of you have permission to come with us. Think on it, Harry, and talk it over with Ron in the morning.” 

Ginny yawned widely. “I need to get back to bed. Will you be all right?”

Harry smiled for the first time that night. “You know my answer already. I’ll never turn down a chance to go to The Burrow. And yeah, I think I’ll be all right, at least for tonight.”

***********

A few moments after leaving Harry in the common room, Ginny crawled back into bed and pulled her hangings shut. She took her wand from her dressing gown pocket and with a practiced flick, cast a silencing charm around herself to ensure privacy: if she got any sleep the rest of the night she knew it would be troubled. Her roommates didn’t need to be rudely awakened by one of her dreams and with all she had been privileged to in the last hour she was certain her mind had new worries to experiment with. With a sigh, she settled back into her pillows and let her mind take over.

Why, oh why, did she always have to become involved with boys with “issues”? She seemed to have a penchant for taking on troubled souls! For all his normalcy, Michael had been so afraid to hex her during DA meetings that she doubted that he had learned a thing; and when he had, his concern over her well-being had been so intense that it had made her sick! Besides, he was almost as obsessed over homework as Hermione and often put his studies over her. As for Dean, he was so ordinary it was almost laughable. Certainly she worried that he and his Muggle parents would be targets for You-Know-Who, but he was rather boring when compared to Harry.

Poor Harry. Poor troubled Harry. She knew in her heart that he would not want her to think of him in this manner. He hated it when people pitied him. It was just that she suddenly had an idea of what it was to be Harry Potter.

Ginny had had no idea the burdens Harry had been carrying the last six months. As isolated as he had been during the summer, it was easy to see just how simple it would be to let the knowledge imparted to him by Dumbledore weigh so heavily on his shoulders that he became consumed by it. She wished he had said something sooner; but he hadn’t been ready. If only he had trusted me or Ron or Hermione...Then again, it was so typical Harry to stoically remain silent while his friends watched him suffer. 

She was certain that he had not told her everything. The rest of it, she felt, would surface in time. He had left her with the impression that what he had left out was just as troubling as the Prophesy, that it was something deeply personal and possibly more important than knowing he was the Chosen One. The questions came fast and furiously. Could it truly be he was the only one who could vanquish Voldemort? Did he really have the power, yet undiscovered and untapped, to rid the world of the Dark Lord? Another, more startling thought suddenly surfaced. Ginny hoped she wasn’t reading more into what had transpired between them down in the common room than was really there. Harry had trusted her tonight. Did they share some common experience or connection that was stronger than the wizard’s debt between Harry and Wormtail? Was she somehow mysteriously connected to him through Voldemort other than their connection trough the Chamber of Secrets? The answers were as elusive as the questions were disquieting. She hoped that eventually Harry would trust her enough to finally tell her everything.

Brave, noble Harry. She felt her connections with him tonight more acutely than she ever had before.

They were connected by their mutual experiences in the Chamber. They had connected earlier this year as they struggled with the evil they experienced in their nightmares. They were connected by their adventures at the Department of Mysteries. They were connected by her concern for him as she watched him struggle to accept what life had thrown at him. Harry wasn’t just her brother’s best friend any more: he was her friend, too, no matter how intricately they were connected through Voldemort.

Dearest Harry. The Harry she had cherished since she was little...

He had unknowingly wrapped himself around her heart from the first time Bill had told her Harry’s famous story. For as long as she could remember he had been there causing her to blush and giggle when she thought of him. Then, when he became Ron’s best friend, she had wanted him to be her best friend, too. It hadn’t worked out that way since he saw her mostly as Ron’s little sister and did not reciprocate her feelings. Therefore, she had spent a good deal of time during the past two years trying to “give up on” but not “get over” him. For Ginny, there was a subtle difference. To her, “giving up” meant moving on, exploring other relationships, while still maintaining their friendship rather than dumping Harry completely. She could never do that, because no matter how hard she worked to exorcise him from her heart, he refused to budge. She wanted his friendship and trust, and wanted him to see that she had changed and grown while he wasn’t looking. From where she stood now, though, it didn’t look as if Harry wanted to be more than friends with her. Would he ever? Only time would tell. In the meantime, Ginny was willing to explore relationships with other boys.

She had wanted so much to have a normal teenaged girl’s life fancying and dating a myriad of boys before ultimately choosing the one to spend the rest of her life with. Her time with Michael Corner had taught her a lot about feelings and respecting another’s views. It had been a great experiment that hadn’t really worked, though; Harry had always been at the back of her mind and she had found herself comparing the two with Michael always lacking. No one, it seemed, could compare to Harry.

As for Dean Thomas, Ginny had told her brother on the train home at the end of last year that she had chosen Dean, but had omitted that Dean, at the time, didn’t know. The truth was that she and Dean were just friends; their friendship could best be explained as platonic with no romantic connotations whatsoever. It amused Dean, once Ginny had owled him about the situation and asked for his cooperation, that Ron was such the “protective older brother” when it came down to Ginny’s affairs of the heart. Dean, it transpired, was having just as much fun bating Ron as Ginny. Many evenings, as part of their ruse, they studied at the same table while collaborating on assignments from their Muggle Studies professor; it turned out that Dean was quite helpful when it came to explaining the intricacies of Muggle life from an insider’s point of view. Ginny was grateful to Dean for going along with her scheme, and wondered sometimes what Harry thought of their being a “couple.” Did he even think about her with other boys? 

My Harry? Maybe if he could get past his “issues” he would feel confident enough to notice her. She wanted him to notice her and thought it would be nice to be able to call him her boyfriend. However, the question was would he want her for his girlfriend? Only time and circumstances would tell, and in the meantime, they were friends...

She had meant what she had said to him about never abandoning him. She had realized, for the first time tonight that the crush of her younger years had changed over time and developed into deeply rooted feelings. She didn’t really know how to define how she felt; she knew some would call it “love”. She decided the word she wanted was ‘devotion’. However, if it was love, was it the kind of love that would last an eternity like that of her parents or the kind that burned hot for a short time and then fizzled? Whichever it was, it certainly had gone unrequited; but she was content with that, for she knew now that she had Harry’s friendship and for this moment in her life, that was enough. If he needed her, she would be there for him no matter what.

Ginny lay in these comforting thoughts during the wee hours of the morning, letting her body relax further against the pillows. Soon, she slept and did not stir again until Hermione, probably due to Ron’s concern over her absence at breakfast, brought her some pumpkin juice and a stack of toast shortly before lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am grateful for the time and effort my beta Yolanda put in to read over this chapter...thrice! She is a delight to work with and I look forward to her comments each time I send her a chapter. Thanks...
> 
> If anyone has spotted the reference to the lyrics from the title song, “You’re Still You” sung by Josh Groban on his debut album, congratulations. When I first heard the song, I knew that one of Harry’s friends would have to sneak at least some of the words into a conversation. Full acknowledgement of the song, its composer, and lyricist will be given at the end of the next and final chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope you have come to appreciate Ginny as much as I have.


	4. The Gift of Hope

Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, George and Fred turned up outside the Great Hall Friday evening to escort Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione back to the Burrow. They each had a Portkey with a specific time allotted to it. Consequently, when Harry needed to go back to his trunk for something he’d forgotten, he was nearly left behind.

Mrs. Weasley greeted the travellers with open arms and her usual warm hugs. She had mugs of hot cider waiting and Ginny could smell the joint of beef and Yorkshire pudding that was baking in the oven. Dinner would be in fifteen minutes, which gave them just enough time to stow away their school bags and other belongings. 

They gathered around the table nearly all talking at once. (Ginny noticed that her mother had magically changed the shape of the kitchen table so that extra places could be set for the additional guests.) Everyone had dragon story requests and questions for Charlie about his travels. He kept everyone laughing with his funny accounts of daily life on the dragon reserve, but refused to tell them anything about where he’d gone otherwise. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he told them with a significant glance at his mother and father. “I’ve just got to be careful, that’s all.” He turned to George and Fred. “How are things in Diagon Alley?” George smiled and began describing their latest Wheeze.

Throughout the meal, Ginny glanced around the table taking in the sight she hadn’t seen in years. The long table was positively groaning under the weight of the many dishes spread across it and there was not a vacant chair to be found; in fact, there was hardly any elbowroom at all. As Fred began telling a story about an interesting customer who had stopped by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes the day before, Ginny peeked at the occupants of each chair. The scene was so comforting, yet slightly disturbing because of Percy’s absence and Harry’s reserved demeanour; she felt a pang of sorrow slide through her. Harry did look more relaxed to her, but from past experience, she knew he was usually more animated. I really hope this weekend works out for him, she thought to herself as she passed the bowl of peas to Hermione.

After dinner, Ginny and Hermione cleared the table and helped Ron with the dishes. They had sent Harry upstairs to get a chess set which gave the three of them a few minutes quick conversation.

Hermione handed a plate to Ginny as she queried, “Well, do you think this is going to work?”

“I sure hope so,” Ron said. “Harry woke up again last night and didn’t go back to sleep for ages. I’m thinking about putting a silencing charm on my room so everyone else can sleep through the night, even if we can’t.”

“He does seem more relaxed, though,” Hermione said hopefully.

“Well, no matter what happens this weekend,” Ginny said. “Getting away from Hogwarts seems to be doing him some good. I just hope it’s enough.”

The others agreed as Harry came down the stairs.

“You done yet?” he asked. 

“Another few minutes,” Ginny answered, grinning. “We’d have been done except for a slow dish washer here.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mum made us clean up the Muggle way,” Ron protested as Hermione smirked behind his back and muttered something about “restriction of underage sorcery” under her breath.

Harry must have heard her. His eyes widened and he gaped at Hermione for a second. He started to say something, but Hermione cut him off.

“We’re almost done, Harry. Will it be girls against boys or Ron and me against you and Ginny?”

“Boys against girls tonight, if Ron’s feeling courageous enough to take me on as his partner. I’ll go set up,” he said and headed for the lounge. 

Raised voices brought Ron, Hermione and Ginny racing to the lounge a few minutes later, the dishes forgotten. Harry and Mad-Eye Moody were standing about an arm’s length apart in the middle of the room arguing heatedly.

“...all the stupid things I’ve heard of kids doing, this has got to take the cake!” exclaimed Moody.

“What do you care if I fly after dark?” Harry demanded.

“I’m in charge of your security detail,” roared the ex-Auror, both his magical and his normal eyes fixed on Harry. “I’m entitled to know about your activities!”

“So what!” 

“So what? I’m the one who gets his head handed to him on a silver platter if you get killed, boy!”

Ginny glanced at Ron and Hermione where they stood with her in the doorway and whispered, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. Why did Moody have to choose tonight to confront Harry?”

“It’s probably the first opportunity he’s had since school started. Secrecy of the Order, you know,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

As Ron opened his mouth to comment, Harry spat back, “Why would you get in trouble? It’s my decision to endanger my life by flying alone after dark if I want to.”

“You’re flying ALONE? Now I know you’re daft. What in Merlin’s name made you decide to risk being killed by pulling a stunt like that?” 

“I can’t tell you.”

At this, Ginny gasped audibly. She alone of everyone present knew Harry’s secret. “I don’t like this at all,” she murmured. “Please don’t make him tell, Professor Moody.”

Hermione and Ron stared at Ginny. “What do you know about Harry that we don’t?” Ron demanded quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him.

Ginny looked at her brother, her eyes huge and pleading, an ear still cocked toward the quarrel in the lounge. “I can’t tell you, Ron. Harry made me swear not to tell.” She shook her head. “All I can say is that it’s very personal and when Harry chooses to tell you you’ll get every detail, no holds barred,” she assured him and Hermione. She looked miserably back into the room as Moody’s anger burst afresh over Harry.

“... now he tells me,” Moody spat. ”Well, you listen to me, Potter. Whatever this big secret is, it had better be good! Does it mean nothing to you that people have gone to a lot of trouble to ensure your safety? Or is it more important to flaunt whatever rules have been laid down for your protection?”

“You’re beginning to sound like Snape!”

“And I’m bloody well proud of it, too. He does have a rather interesting perspective on your past activities, mind you.”

“You leave Snape out of this,” Harry retorted. “Whatever is between the two of us is private. And for your information, I’ve always had a reason when I break the rules, and it’s always turned out right.” 

“Well, you’ve been lucky, then. And rather foolish, too, to take things into your own hands.”

Ginny heard Hermione whisper, “Professor Snape” and shook her head as Ron nudged her to get her attention. 

“Sometimes taking matters into his own hands was all he could do ... regardless of what the rules were,” Ron growled softly as he, too, glared at Moody. Ginny had to agree.

“Let’s get some things clear,” Moody said heatedly stepping closer and pointing a gnarled finger at Harry’s chest, “One...no more flying alone. Two...if you must fly, take at least three other people with you, one of whom does not fly in case of attack. Three...never, never, never fly or hover alone in the dark, no matter how secure you think the area is. Wards can be broken. You make yourself an easy target and the enemy can lurk in the Forest. No matter what, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Do-You-Understand?” The last three words were punctuated by jabs of Moody’s finger.

Harry glared at his former professor. “Yes, PERFECTLY!” he snapped and pushed past Ron, Ginny and Hermione as he headed for the kitchen door.

“Oh, dear...” Hermione murmured as they watched him slam out of the house.

Ginny looked at the others. “Should we go after him?”

Ron shook his head. “Give him a few, Ginny,” he said wisely. “As much as I hate to see Harry storm off like that we don’t need him angry at us as well. That would ruin our plans for the weekend for certain. Just let him calm down a little.” 

The girls agreed and Ron suggested playing the chess game without Harry.

“I don’t think so, Ron,” Ginny said. “I’m no longer in the mood. You two go ahead. I think I’ll go upstairs and start my Transfiguration essay.”

As she started up the stairs she heard Hermione say encouragingly, “Good for you, Ginny,” which made her smile a little, despite the seriousness of the situation.

**********  
The fire was burning low in the grate as Ginny crept down the stairs. As usual, she couldn’t sleep, but this night it wasn’t because of nightmares. Her concern for Harry, who hadn’t yet come inside when she had put out her lamp an hour ago, had driven her from her bed in search of a cup of tea; she knew she was too jittery to concentrate any more on her essay. 

Ginny filled a kettle with water from the kitchen basin, turned on the stove, (unlike the rest of her family, she preferred making tea the Muggle way for some reason) and set about finding the teapot, and her favorite mug and tea in the cupboard, her thoughts awhirl. She glanced at the clock, it wasn’t that late–only twelve-thirty–and wondered if Harry was still out in the garden. She had wanted to go to him earlier, but Ron had been adamant about her leaving Harry alone; there were Aurors on duty and someone was certain to be following him at a discrete distance. She just hoped that his argument with Moody hadn’t been too much of a setback for him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the kitchen door. Looking up, she saw Harry standing in the pool of light shed by the lantern hanging above the lintel. She hastened to let him in.

“Thanks, Ginny,” he said taking off his wet cloak and hanging it close to the fireplace to dry. “Were you the one who sent Errol after me with my cloak?”

“That was Mum. She didn’t want you to get sick again.” She chuckled, “Poor Errol...you should have seen the look on his face when Mum tied your cloak to his legs. I think he thought he was going to have to fly all the way to Hogwarts with it swinging wildly underneath him. Thank goodness you hadn’t gone farther than bottom of the back garden. When he came back, he wouldn’t even look at Mum!” She poured hot water into the teapot. “Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to have one.”

“Yes, please. As warm as that cloak is, it’s a bit chilly out there without a heavy jumper underneath. It was never meant to be worn in a downpour either.”

They took their cups and the steaming teapot to the table and sat down. Ginny let several minutes go by, sipping thoughtfully, before she said quietly, “I’m sorry, Harry, that Moody had to do that to you. I hope it doesn’t ruin your stay.”

Harry stared at his cup. “It’s all right, Ginny. I probably had it coming. Like I told you back at school, I’ve done some really stupid things this term that I’m now being called to account for,” he said with a sigh. “It’s time I get my act together...in more ways than one.”

Ginny smiled at him over her mug. “You’ll get through this, Harry. I know you will. Mum always says that owning up to your mistakes is half the battle and the hardest part, usually.”

Harry drained his cup. “She’s a wise lady, your Mum,” he said with a yawn and stood up. ”Thanks for the tea and company, Ginny. I’d better get to bed. Oh, could you put a pot of tea outside for my minder, please. Whoever it was got quite a workout tonight.”

“Of course, Harry. See you in the morning.”

Five minutes later Ginny opened the kitchen door and summoned a small table from the collection of yard furniture stacked under the eves of the house. She carefully set a carafe of tea, several mugs and a waterproof tin of biscuits on the table and called quietly into the night, “Harry requested that I leave some tea for his minders. He sends his thanks as well.”

A cloaked figure emerged from the rainy darkness and identified itself as Tonks. Ginny greeted the older witch who said, “Blimey, that boy can run! He’s almost as fast on foot as he’s supposed to be on a broom! Thanks for the tea, Ginny. Mind if I take it around to the others?”

Shaking her head, Ginny smiled as she answered, “Do you need more mugs? I’ll make a second pot and leave it here on the table. We’ll collect the lot in the morning. Have a quiet night.”

“Thanks,” Tonks replied. “It will be if this bloody downpour ever lets up.” 

With the second pot of tea brewed and set out for the Aurors, Ginny made her way back up the stairs to bed, thinking of Harry.

**********

Everyone was up early on Saturday morning. There would be no excuses for sleeping in; today was decorating day and Mrs. Weasley had a “To Do” list for everyone in the house. Cleaning chores were a priority and she would be bustling around The Burrow supervising the picking up, dusting and general straightening of every room as soon as breakfast was over.

“How did you two sleep?” Hermione whispered to Ron as he and the two girls descended the stairs to the kitchen. Harry had gone downstairs several minutes ahead of them. 

“’Bout average. Harry was awake most of the night as unusual,” he replied stifling a yawn. “I have a suspicion he had George cast a silencing charm over his bed, though. Fred and George came in to talk after Harry got back and Fred tried to distract me while George pointed his wand at Harry’s bed.”

“Do you think he was still brooding over the argument he had with Moody?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know,” Ron told her. “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”

They entered the kitchen and took their places at the table. Ginny picked up the list of chores beside her plate and joined in the general grumbling over what her mother had assigned her to do. There were only three items on the list; one easy (keeping Harry company after her other chores were completed) and two hard. The hard ones were that way only because she couldn’t use magic. Cleaning the Muggle way, it seemed, was how Mrs. Weasley wanted the house readied for decorating this year

Around mid-morning, Ginny, who was working in the back garden, caught Harry grinning behind her mother’s back as Mrs. Weasley instructed her daughter on the finer points of how to beat the dust out of the lounge rug.

“What’s so funny?” Ginny hissed as her mother went into the house to find someone else to harass. She swung her rug beater in a wide arch; it made contact with the rug and engulfed both her and Harry in a cloud of dust. 

Harry sneezed and put down the stack of decoration boxes Mrs. Weasley had given him to take outside. “It just crossed my mind that your Mum sounds suspiciously like my Aunt Petunia today. Is she always this picky about house cleaning?”

“Only just before Christmas. She has this thing about not covering up a mess with the decorations. I think she got in trouble as a child for superficially cleaning her room and then using Christmas decorations to hide what she hadn’t put away properly.” Ginny told him matter-of-factly. She stopped to ponder something before chuckling, “Aunt Petunia, huh? Mum had better not hear you comparing them or you’ll get an earful.”

Harry grinned sheepishly and replied, “I wouldn’t want that. Getting scolded by Aunt Petunia is bad enough, but your Mum can out-shout her any day. I shudder every time I think of that Howler she sent Ron a few years ago.”

Ginny cringed at the memory. “I think you get the picture,” she said and turned back to her rugs as Harry hoisted the boxes and left to find Bill on the other side of the house. Oh, if I could only use a cleaning charm! Blast that Underage Sorcery restriction! I hate cleaning like a Muggle! she thought savagely and began swinging her beater with renewed vigor.

When the house at last was clean to Mrs. Weasley’s satisfaction, Harry, Bill, Ron, Charlie, and the twins brought the last of the boxes down from the attic. Mr. Weasley brought in the Christmas tree and the decorating began in earnest. As the wireless played in the background, Harry and Ron scaled ladders and hung garlands over the doors and windows while Ginny and Hermione supervised. 

“Hermione,” Ron complained, “are you ever going to be satisfied?” He shifted the garland he was holding above a window a little to his right.

“No, Ron, not until both ends of that garland are perfectly even.” 

“But you’ve had me re-hang this bloody thing four times all ready!”

“Language, Ron! Just be quiet and straighten the garland again...that’s it...a little more to the left...stop! Now you can secure it.”

“Thank goodness!”

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other and Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny stifled a giggle. They both remembered how Ron had complained about supervising the hanging of the Christmas decorations (hindered by Peeves) at Hogwarts the previous year as part of his Prefect’s duties. This year would probably be no exception. 

They finished with the garlands a few minutes later. Ron and Hermione went to join Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, arguing incessantly, while Ginny took Harry into the lounge to unpack ornaments.

“Have you ever done this, Harry?” Ginny asked cautiously as she began sifting through a box. She took out several tissue-wrapped ornaments and put them on the coffee table.

“Not that I can remember,” he replied opening another box. “Aunt Petunia never let me help with the decorating. She shut me in my cupboard most of the time during the holidays. I suppose I was easier to deal with that way.”

Ginny frowned. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to how horribly they treat you, Harry. Some of my fondest memories of Christmas are from the days we decorate. I’m not saying I like doing all that cleaning, but afterwards has always been filled with family fun and tradition.” She paused to glance at Harry who was looking at her sadly. 

“You’ve missed so much, haven’t you, Harry?” When he nodded she continued more quietly, a hint of emotion strangling her voice, “I find it heart-wrenching that you’ve not had the opportunity to form memories around silly little objects you get out only once a year.” She gestured toward the boxes in front of them. “Did you know that every ornament that’s in these boxes has a story behind it?"

Harry shook his head and pulled an odd, multi-colored plush reindeer out of the box in front of him. “What’s the story behind this one?” he asked, an expression of curiosity and melancholy clouding his handsome face.

Ginny giggled. “That’s Ron’s. It used to be brown until Fred and George got hold of it. Mum gave each of us our own special ornament to hang on the tree when we turned three. Anyway, one year, I think Ron was six, Fred and George took the reindeer off the tree, I think they were mad at him for something, and decided to do one of their experiments on it. They thought they had a bleaching solution down pat and decided to turn it white. Ron found them just as they were dunking his ornament in their cauldron. Something was wrong with their potion and instead of turning white, the reindeer turned black. You should have heard Ron’s yell of frustrated anger. It made the ghoul upstairs go quiet for a week. Well, no matter how many times Mum bleached it, she could not get the reindeer to turn brown again. The colors didn’t want to blend together and finally Mum told Ron he had to live with it. Ron got Fred and George back, though. He found their ornaments on the tree and took them out to the pigsty. Not even Mum’s strongest soap could get rid of the stench and eventually, we had to take the tree down so that we could breathe easier.”

“No wonder you remember that story,” Harry said with a grin as Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family came to help with the decorating. Soon everyone was picking up their favorite ornaments and sharing stories about past Christmases. Finally, Fred and George coaxed a host of live fairies on to the tree and Mr. Weasley levitated the star to its very top. Everyone stood back to admire their handiwork. The tree glowed softly in the fairy light, casting a warm radiance over everything in the room.

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Hermione.

“Almost as good as Hogwarts!” offered Ron.

“So many memories...” murmured Mrs. Weasley as she turned a well-worn teddy bear ornament over and over in her hands before placing it lovingly on the tree.

Ginny whispered, “Percy’s” to Harry who nodded in understanding. She jumped a little as he slipped his hand into hers.

“Happy Christmas a little early, Ginny,” he said, smiling. “This was fun! Thanks for inviting me to come.”

She glanced down at their entwined fingers as Harry gave her hand a squeeze. “Happy early Christmas to you, Harry. May this one hold nothing but happy memories.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I hope you’re right, Ginny. I’ll let you know if your wish comes true.”

Just then, Fred yelled, “Is anybody hungry? How ‘bout lunch?”

With a laugh, everyone wandered into the kitchen where they found the table laden with enough sandwiches, crisps and sweets to feed a troupe of house-elves. 

**********

Late in the afternoon Ginny found herself alone in the lounge with Harry and the Christmas tree. The others had scattered throughout the house; Mrs. Weasley was making dinner in the kitchen while George had retired to his old room to work on his business accounts (Fred had gone back to the shop). Ron and Hermione had put on their cloaks and wandered out to Mr. Weasley's shed to see the latest addition to his plug collection, the blown outlet from Hermione's house. Ginny, herself, had curled up on the sofa with her Transfiguration book and her half-finished essay while Harry had stretched out on the rug in front of the fire and had soon fallen asleep. Ginny watched him over the top of her book, smiling at how relaxed he looked for once. She hoped he'd get an hour or two's good nap before dinner.

Suddenly, Harry began to mumble in his sleep. His face tensed and his body began to twitch as if fighting something. Ginny could see sweat beginning to bead up on his forehead as Harry's breathing grew more rapid until it was coming in great ragged gasps. The dream became more vicious; she watched in horror as Harry drew his legs up to his chest and his face contorted into a silent scream. 

Ginny was off the couch and at his side in an instant. Careful to avoid Harry's violently twitching body, she knelt on the rug with his head cradled on her knees and began gently stroking his forehead and whispering soothing words in his ear. It took a long time before Harry's breathing began to slow and his body to relax. Ginny stayed with him until she was sure the nightmare was gone and he was again asleep. Then, she grabbed her book and a pillow and settled down next to him until he stirred and looked over at her.

"Ginny?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing down here? I thought you were on the couch."

"I was until you began to dream," she said simply. "Was it very bad?"

“Oh.”

Harry seemed reluctant to tell her about it. "Yes and no.”

“What do you mean? Did it have anything to do with...” Ginny hesitated.

“With Sirius? No. Nothing like that.”

“That’s good, I think,” Ginny offered. “Do you mind telling me how it started?”

Harry sighed and hugged his knees as he said, “It started out just like all the others these days, but it changed toward the end."

"It did? Do you remember it?"

"Yes, but I really don't think you want to know," he said rubbing his forehead. "Some of it was pretty awful. Then it...it just seemed to fade away. It was weird; nothing like that has ever happened before." 

“I’d like to hear about it,” Ginny encouraged him quietly. . Maybe if he talks about it he’ll feel better.

Harry shook his head, remembering. “We were in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione, Neville and I had just run into that circular room for the third or fourth time. We asked for the exit, but the room would only spin while an eerie voice chanted 'no way out' over and over. Finally, we burst through the door to the veil room and were immediately surrounded by Death Eaters. We tried to fight them off, but it wasn’t any use. There were too many of them. In the struggle the sphere broke and as retaliation Bellatrix Lestrange hit me with the Cruciatus Curse. I don’t know how it happened, but the dream changed. The curse lifted and I had my wand in my hand again. I started throwing curses and hexes at anyone in a black hood. Another spell hit me from behind and I felt someone levitate me away from the room just as Sirius fell through the veil. I yelled for them to take me back but whoever it was, refused. I was taken to the Atrium where someone, not Dumbledore, took me back to school. Whoever it was stayed with me and kept telling me not to be afraid, that I was safe, and that it was only a dream. Then the dream was gone and I could sleep again.”

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad."

Something in her voice made Harry look inquiringly at her. "Did...did you have anything to do with making it stop?"

Ginny toyed with the pillow's fringe as she admitted, "Yes. That's why I'm down here." She glanced at Harry before continuing, "As soon as the dream seemed to be its worst I tried to calm you. I wanted to try to make it go away somehow. It was so hard for me to just sit and watch you dream. I...I hope you don't mind."

Harry was silent for a while before he said, "Thanks, Ginny. You did help." 

Ginny smiled at him. "You're welcome, Harry. I...I wish I could help you more often."

Again, he paused, staring into the firelight. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure. Go ahead." 

"This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I have to know. Are you the one who joins me at the Quidditch pitch most evenings?"

"Yes, it's me, Harry. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when you're there I don't feel as if the world is falling in on me."

"It is peaceful out there," Ginny admitted. "I hope you don't mind."

"I did at first, but realized how much I missed you when you didn't come for several days. I think I figured it out it was you when you went to Hermione's that weekend and my nightmares came back worse than they'd been in a while. I decided I liked having you near me. I'm more...at peace when you're there," Harry admitted.

"At peace," Ginny murmured, smiling. "Yes, I've been sending you peaceful thoughts and hoping you'd let me be there for you if you ever decided to talk with someone." She stopped and took a deep breath before murmuring, "I think I understand what's happening to you more than Ron or Hermione."

Harry thought for a moment. "You’re talking about the nightmares you have about the Chamber?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do they really bother you as much as I think they do?"

"Sometimes. When I haven't properly relaxed before bed. Then I see Tom Riddle and relive what happened during my first year at Hogwarts or that night at the Department of Mysteries."

Harry studied his hands as he said, "I know we’ve talked about this before, but...are they very bad?"

"They were that first summer. I terrorized the whole family a few times before realizing I needed to cast a privacy charm on my room every night. Mum and Dad found out and made me talk to them." Images of her parents storming into her room holding the letter from Mafalda Hopkirk filled her mind. She shuddered thinking about the row that had ensued.

"I had no idea. How did you get over the dreams?"

"I don't ever think I'll be completely over what Riddle did to me, Harry,” Ginny told him truthfully. I've just learned how to cope with it. I know what to do now if I wake up from one of those nightmares feeling helpless and scared."

"How's that?"

Ginny stood up. "I'll show you. Stay right there. I'll get something from my room."

A few minutes later Ginny came back downstairs carrying two carved wooden boxes. She set them before Harry and opened one. Inside was a small stone basin filled with a thick silvery substance that glistened in the firelight. As she took it out of the box, careful not to spill the contents, she noticed that Harry recognized the basin as something he'd seen before; a Pensieve.

In answer to his unspoken question Ginny said, "That summer after you rescued me and Mum and Dad found out about my dreams they gave me this. Dad showed me how to use it and the nightmares began to come less and less frequently. Lately, I've been using it almost like a diary, but it has many other uses, too. At times when I'm confused or worried I pull out thoughts and examine them later when I'm more clear-headed. Or when I need cheering up I find a happy memory to look at. Want me to show you?"

Harry nodded and watched as Ginny pulled a thought from her temple and set it in the Pensieve. The silvery substance swirled, then suddenly showed Harry and the rest of his third year Quidditch team on the glassy surface. The team was standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch next to Professor Dumbledore. Oliver Wood was hoisting the big silver Quidditch Cup high in the air. In the surrounding crowd the second year Gryffindors who had been sitting with Ginny were jumping and cheering like crazy. Harry looked up at Ginny grinning.

“That’s really something.”

“Look, Harry. You’re still holding the snitch!”

“Yeah, I remember not wanting to give it back to Madam Hooch.”

“Did you?”

Harry’s ears turned pink. “No, I didn’t. I still have it stashed in my trunk at school.”

“Harry!”

“Hey, it’s better than what Oliver took. He dug up a piece of the turf and left a hole the size of my fist in the pitch!”

“Oh, dear. I remember Hagrid grumbling about the holes we left in the pitch.”

“You mean Oliver wasn’t the only one who took some of the grass?”

“Heavens, no. Half my classmates scuffed up some turf that afternoon.”

“No wonder Hagrid was grumbling!” Harry grinned. “Ginny, what does your Pensieve have to do with me?” he asked changing the subject.

Ginny put her Pensieve back in its box, leaving the top off, and gently pushed the second box toward Harry. "This is yours. You left it with Ron after Lupin gave it to you for your birthday last summer. It's been in Ron's room ever since. It didn't have a proper carrying case, so I think you asked Mum if you could store it here for safe keeping." 

Harry sighed. "I did. I'd forgotten about it." 

"I thought so. Did Lupin show you how to use it?"

"No, he never had time. At least, not before we left for school. You know, Restriction of Underage Magic and his work with the Order." Harry frowned. "I'm still a little confused as to why he gave me one. I'm not sure I want to see what my thoughts really look like."

"You don't have to look at the disturbing images right away, Harry. Use your Pensieve to calm yourself before you go to sleep each night; get rid of angry thoughts or ones that are certain to keep you awake floating ‘round and ‘round in your head. That's how Dad had me start. It helps to clear the mind and allow happier images to dwell longer in the subconscious; it keeps the nightmares at bay a little longer each night. Ron said you needed one last year, that Professor Snape had wanted you to clear your mind when he was giving you those Occlumency lessons. He also said you weren't trying very hard though,” Ginny explained. Harry looked at the floor, a guilty look plastered all over his face.

"You're sure about this, aren't you?" he queried pensively.

"Yes, Harry. I am. Voldemort’s tried to enter my mind a few times in the last year, too, and knowing how to fight back is worth it. No, I'm not studying Occlumency. It's not something Dumbledore feels I need," Ginny sighed when she saw the guarded expression in Harry's eyes. Ploughing ahead she asked, "Would you like me to teach you how to transfer thoughts? We'd only recall happy memories at first. Then, when you're ready, either Dumbledore or I could show you the more advanced techniques."

Harry nodded. "I'd like that. Do we have time now?"

"I think so." She lifted Harry's Pensieve out of its box and set it on the hearthrug. "OK. You'll need your wand for this." 

When Harry was ready she said, "Clear your mind of all thoughts except one that makes you really happy like that Quidditch cup memory we shared earlier. When you have your thought, gently tap your wand on your temple and then pull it slowly away from your head. That's it. Harry, open your eyes. You've captured your first thought."

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the silvery strand dangling from his wand. He smiled as he touched the strand to his Pensieve and watched as it briefly swirled around. "How do I see my thought if I want to look at it?"

"Look directly into the basin or prod the surface with your wand. When you’re finished, poke it again."

Harry did and Ginny saw the image of her younger self and those of her mum, Ron, Fred, and George shimmer into focus from the depths of the basin. Her likeness asked, “Mummy, may I board the train and see Harry Potter?” Mrs. Weasley refused, telling her that Harry wasn’t something to be gawked at in a zoo. The picture changed slightly; the Hogwarts Express left the platform and Ginny watched as little Ginny began chasing after it. As the train gathered speed the girl fell back and waved after it, before the image faded from sight.

"You chose that one? Why?"

Harry smiled. "It's the first memory I have of you. You've been part of my trips to Hogwarts every year beginning with that first time when I didn't know how to get onto Platform 9 3/4. Why shouldn't I include you in one of my happiest memories?"

"If you put it that way, I'm flattered."

"Give me a moment. There's more." Harry added several more thoughts to the Pensieve, then poked the surface with his wand. Once again an image flickered into focus, this time from high above the Quidditch pitch. Ginny saw herself sitting in the tower stand, reading a book and glancing up every now and then. “Thanks for coming, Ginny. I'm calmer now. You have no idea what your presence does for me,” she heard him say. Harry prodded the basin again and the Room of Requirement swam into focus. The Ginny in the Pensive scanned the room looking for something. A small bag suddenly appeared on the bedside table as Harry’s voice pleaded, “Stay with me, Ginny. I don’t want to be alone. I need you...NO! Don’t go!” The room swayed and the memory suddenly faded. Harry prodded the Pensieve one last time and said simply, "Now you know."

Ginny smiled as she felt hot tears course down her cheeks. Unable to control herself she drew Harry into an embrace and whispered, "I'm always there for you, any time you need me," before pulling back and saying, "Thanks for sharing this with me."

Then, to her surprise, Harry reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I’ll remember that," he said with a smile. He didn't let go. With his other hand, Harry pushed the Pensieve aside and picked up the box it came in. "Can you tell me about this? It looks custom made."

Ginny smiled. "It is. I had it carved in Diagon Alley when I went to Hermione's,” she explained as she settled herself into a more comfortable position, still keeping her hand in Harry’s. She turned her gaze back to the box in Harry’s other hand. “The wizard who did the carving on it had decorated the box for my Pensieve. They're both one-of-a-kind. However, before you examine it too closely, I need to explain a few things. I put a lot of personal feelings into its design and I don't want you to jump to the wrong conclusions."

She glanced up to see Harry waiting expectantly for her to continue. She then reached into her pocked and withdrew a thick envelope.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to say to you,” she began. “But when I practiced out loud in front of a mirror my thoughts always came out in a disorganized jumble.”

Harry nodded. “I feel that way sometimes, too,” he said quietly, his green eyes seeming to search her brown ones.

Ginny smiled and gazed at the letter. “I’ve written some pretty intimate stuff in this letter, Harry. It took me seven tries to finally get it all right. Please read both parts right now before I get too scared to give it to you.” She thrust the letter into Harry’s hand, gathered up her book and pillow and retreated to the sofa. The wording of the letters was fresh in her mind. She held her breath as Harry began reading the page she had labeled “Read First”.

December 1996

Dear Harry,

You’ve always known I had a crush on you when we first met. You know about the butter dish incident as well as several others and I’m not embarrassed by them in the least now. During the first month I was at Hogwarts, I realized that if I really wanted your friendship I’d have to start acting less like a giggling little girl and more like a friend. There was just one hitch’ the diary. I was highly embarrasses by what I’d written in it to Tom Riddle before I learned who he really was. You know the rest of that story. 

It was right after you rescued me that I realized I owed my life to you, Harry; that somehow our destinies are intertwined and it changed how I thought about you. I stayed out of your way the next two years, for the most part, because I didn’t want you to feel smothered. But deep inside me, something stronger than friendship began to grow and when it was obvious you were having problems this year, I made up my mind to help you. 

I won’t call what I feel for you “love”; it’s more of a deep-seated devotion, a gift of myself and my heart. Just so you know, I’ve tried to share both with Michael and Dean, but the devotion didn’t feel the way it does when you’re around. You’re a very special person to me, Harry; there are times in which I feel more for you than any other boy I’ve ever met. I want you to know that no matter whom you fancy or how caught up in the war you become, I will be there for you when you need a back-up in battle or a friend.

I know this is all very new and unexpected, Harry, and I don’t expect you to return any of the feelings I’ve written about in this letter. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Please don’t feel you have to respond out of duty either. I only meant to give you an explanation of why I designed the carvings on the Pensieve box the way I did. 

Yours sincerely,

Ginevra (Ginny) Weasley

The room was silent as Ginny watched Harry read. He took his time as if he needed to re-read some parts two or three times, his impassible expression giving Ginny no clues as to what his reaction to her letter would be. At length, he looked up.

“I had no idea,” he breathed gesturing toward the letters he held.

“That’s all right,” Ginny replied. “Go on. Read the second part. Every detail of the box is explained there.”

“No, Ginny,” Harry replied, extending his free hand toward her. “I don’t want to read about the box. I want you to show it to me and tell me about each of the carvings.”

Harry tossed the letters onto the sofa behind Ginny as she slid to the floor and picked up Harry’s Pensieve box. As she handed him the lid, she inhaled deeply to calm her sudden nervousness. “Okay, here goes...The outside is pretty straight forward. Your monogram is here on the lid.” She touched the stylized HJP thinking of the signet ring Bill wore sometimes on his right hand. She had always loved that ring and had drawn Harry’s monogram in the same Old English-style lettering. “It is surrounded by a vine, representing life, which continues, unbroken, around the entire box. Each of the ‘fruits’ (she pointed to several) is an interpretation of some characteristic of your personality: bravery, nobility (she saw Harry shudder at the word and briefly wondered why), courage, generosity, humility, perseverance, patience (Harry grumbled, “Yeah, I’m really patient.”), wisdom, loyalty. All the reasons you were Sorted into Gryffindor House.” 

Ginny paused to let Harry explore the carvings; she watched silently as he ran his fingers over the carved letters of the monogram, then sought out and traced each of the “fruits”. His fingers lingered over the crossed sword and wand representing “bravery”, the dancing flames of “courage”, and the shield which stood for “loyalty”. Watching him, she wondered what was going through his mind. Harry took his time and finally looked up at Ginny to ask, “Where does the vine lead?” 

“Here,” she said as she picked up the bottom and fit the two pieces together; they could see instantly how the vine trailed down over the edge of the lid and joined the vines entwined around each of the carved panels which formed the main part of the box. Ginny separated the pieces and gave the lid back to Harry. Then she began her explanation, pointing to each large carving as she talked about it. “These four are aspects of your life I know are important to you: the three figures here represent your family; in this one, are Prongs, Padfoot, and Moony.”

“Where is Wormtail? He was a Marauder, too,” Harry interrupted.

“I thought about that a lot,” Ginny said, “and decided to leave him out. I think you understand why.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Harry agreed with a sigh.

Ginny turned the box to the third panel and continued. “I included this cake with eleven candles and a wand for the day you discovered you were a wizard.”

Harry smiled. “There should have been a pig’s tail in that one, too!” he chuckled.

“A pig’s tail?”

“Yeah, Hagrid gave Dudley a tail when he stole the birthday cake Hagrid had baked for me.” 

“That’s brilliant!” Ginny giggled. “I wish I’d known about that. If you want, I could contact the shop owner to see if the tail can be added.”

Harry shook his head. “No, thanks. I really don’t want any reminders of my time with the Dursleys,” he told her, a rueful note in his voice.

Ginny turned the box to the last panel. “Finally, I’ve included the Gryffindor House crest.”

Harry nodded. “The one place I really feel at home,” he murmured.

Ginny reached for the lid which Harry held out to her. As she did so, her hand brushed his. She glanced up involuntarily at the contact.

“There’s more to the box, Harry,” she said to cover her embarrassment.

“More? The carvings are enough as it is!”

Ginny blushed as she told him, “Harry, the box is magical, just like the object it is meant to protect. On the inside of the lid are three song titles.” She giggled at the look of utter horror on Harry’s face. “No, the box doesn’t sing like that Valentine dwarf someone sent you during Lockhart’s love-fest, nor does it screech like the get-well card I charmed the next year.”

“Thank goodness!” Harry exclaimed and they both chuckled at the memories.

“Seriously, Harry, I wouldn’t do that to a friend I’ve come to value so highly,” Ginny told him.

“I appreciate that,” Harry said glancing toward the letters lying on the sofa behind Ginny.

Ginny picked up her wand. “I heard these songs at Hermione’s and copied down the words. They made me think of you and I admit to weeping when I heard them. It was Hermione’s idea to fuse the lyrics to the box like a set of special poems. I’m glad she thought of it. She even helped me with the spell to enchant the song titles.”

“Hermione’s good at things like that,” Harry agreed looking at the underside of the lid where three song titles were carved into the wood: “Let Me Fall”, “To Where You Are”, “You’re Still You”.  
“Here, let me show you.” Ginny leaned toward Harry to tap one of the titles once, murmuring, “Aparicium.” The words appeared to float above the inside surface of the lid. “Don’t read them just yet,” she said tapping the same title twice and whispering, “Finite.” She heard Harry reciting the number of taps and the spells under his breath as she demonstrated. Aloud, he asked, “Could you tell me about why you chose these particular songs, please?”  
“Sure. Which one would you like me to tell you about first?”  
Harry pointed to the first title, “Let Me Fall.”  
Ginny smiled as she said, I liked this one because it’s about growing up and taking risks.”  
Harry looked at the fire as he asked, “Do you think I’ll actually get to grow up, Ginny?”  
The question startled her. She chose her words carefully as she replied. “Yes, Harry, I do...if you have the desire and the courage to do what you’re meant to do.”  
He looked at her then. “I’m glad you think so because what I have to do scares the bloody hell out of me.”  
“I’m scared for you, too, Harry.”  
“Thanks.” A tight smile played on his lips and he sighed in what seemed, to Ginny, to be resignation. Then, he said, “’To Where You Are’. What’s that one about?”  
Ginny smiled broadly. “The words to this one talk about longing for someone who is no longer with you; about keeping their memory alive and letting your memories comfort you. I was deeply touched by the lyrics and thought they might help you embrace your past.”  
Harry smiled genuinely this time. “I get it. You’re referring to Sirius and my parents.”  
“Yes, Harry. I am,” Ginny told him. ”I just didn’t want to bring up bad memories for you. To me, the song feels different for every person I think about. It conjures up memories and I find that rather comforting.”  
“Well, if the words do that to you,” Harry said slowly, “I’d better read those lyrics in private.”  
Ginny nodded, understanding what he meant: Harry, it seemed, was still deep in mourning over the loss of his Godfather and preferred to do his grieving in private.  
“I guess this brings us to the song that started this whole project,” Ginny said. She tapped the title “You’re Still You” and the words appeared above the carvings as they had a few minutes before. “This is the song that means the most to me. I think you will understand when you’ve heard it.” She closed her eyes and began to sing in a clear melodious soprano:

Through the darkness  
I can see your light  
And you will always shine   
And I can feel your heart in mine  
Your face I've memorized  
I idolize just you.

I look up to everything you are  
In my eyes you do no wrong.  
I've loved you for so long   
And after all is said and done   
You're still you  
After all   
You're still you. 

You walk past me I can feel your pain  
Time changes everything  
One truth always stays the same  
You're still you  
After all   
You're still you. 

I look up to  
Everything you are  
In my eyes you do no wrong  
And I believe in you  
Although you never asked me to  
I will remember you   
And what life put you through.

And in this cruel and lonely world  
I found one love  
You're still you   
After all   
You're still you.

Ginny opened her eyes to find Harry staring at her. His emerald eyes seemed to be mirroring his inner struggle with the sentiments of the song. Before he could speak she said, "You are not alone, Harry. There are people in this house, at school, in London, who love you for who you are inside. We know the real you, not just the legend. We don't blame you for the troubles Voldemort’s caused recently. Remember that. No matter what happens, you don't have to shoulder the weight of the world all by yourself." 

She gazed at Harry who was now looking intently at the box in his hands. After a while he whispered shakily, "I...I had no idea. You accept me for who I am...just...Harry...just Harry. You have no idea what that means." He stood up still clutching the box and stared unseeingly into the fire. When at last he spoke again his voice was stronger. "Thank you, Ginny. I had no idea you knew me so well." He began to pace. "I don't know how soon I can repay this extraordinary gift you've given me. I mean, you've showed me so much today, my head and heart are so full just now. I...you've given me...hope...which is something I haven't had for a long time."

Ginny stood as well. Harry turned and hugged her fiercely. When they parted she looked into his eyes saying, "Take your time discovering the box, Harry. It is meant to hold something precious and to help you heal your weary soul. Use it well." With that, she gently took the box from him, packed away his Pensieve and replaced it in his waiting hands. "Go upstairs, Harry. Lock yourself in Ron's room. Re-read both letters and begin filling your Pensieve with memories. I'll tell Mum not to hold dinner for you and explain to Ron why he can't get into his room for a while. He'll understand I'm sure." She gave him one last hug and walked with him to the stairwell. As Harry disappeared up the stairs, Ginny's eyes followed him and she quietly began humming the song.

Five minutes later, George found her there and called her to dinner.

-Finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my betas Aggiebelle and Yolanda for supporting my writing efforts by reading and commenting throughout this piece. Also, thank you to Madam Minnie for betaing and posting the first chapter. Your efforts have made the story better and I appreciate the time you both invested in this project.
> 
> I have been promising to give full credit for the song “You’re Still You” at the end of previous chapters. The story did not start out as a songfic, which is why the song doesn’t appear until the last chapter. It began as my first efforts at a piece of fan fiction and didn’t have a title until I heard the song. The lyrics inspired me and gave me a goal to aim for, a way to pull my ideas together. The song is sung by the artist Josh Groban on his first album, “Josh Groban”, with music by Ennio Morricone and lyrics by Linda Thompson. By the way, in Chapter Three, Ginny tells Harry, “I believe in you, although you never asked me to” which is taken directly from stanza four. The words fit her speech perfectly and now must be given full acknowledgement. 
> 
> Thank you, too, to those of you who reviewed this story. Your words are encouraging and helped me decide to continue the story in the sequel, “New Year, New Hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this story comes from a song of the same name sung by Josh Groban. Full credit to the composer will be forthcoming in another chapter.


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